


Dealing with Babies

by zinjadu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Post-Trespasser, Pregnancy, labor, middle gears are for other people, ridiculous situations played straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-05-26 00:50:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14989169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: The three progressively ridiculous labors of Aurelia Rutherford (nee Trevelyan).  Much thanks to rachaar and critcalmode for their help brainstorming this madness.  Narration is played straight, but the situations are, at base, silly, and get sillier as we go.Why?  Because let's face it, if you were the Inquisitor, your life was never gonna be normal.  Up to and including how your kids are born.Title is an homage to Dealing with Dragons, because babies are kind of like dragons.  They show up on their own time and do what they want.





	1. In Which a Question is Asked that Lays the Foundation for Future Havoc

The house was quiet, but Aurelia could not find her way to sleep.  Cullen lay beside her, though she did not think that he was asleep just yet.   He turned over with a huff, clearly awake, trying to find a comfortable position in a bed that was too small for the both of them.  Their home was still under construction, so they were staying at Cullen’s sister’s home.  Mia had welcomed Aurelia with enthusiasm, and before long Branson and Rosalie had made an appearance as well.  Aurelia had the suspicion that they had come mostly to see her and confirm that she was real.   She had worried that they would not care for her, she was a mage after all, but it seemed that as long as their brother was happy, the Rutherford family found no fault with her.

 

However, since the whole family, including spouses and children were in residence, that meant that bed space was in short supply, and they had to make due with a closet of a room and a single bed.  Meeting the whole family had been a delight, though, and in particular she thought of all the nieces and nephews she suddenly had, adding to the count provided by her own brother and his wife.  Mia had five, and Branson three.  Though Rosalie had none as yet as she was only engaged, and Aurelia doubted either Rutherford brother would take kindly to seeing their youngest sister pregnant in advance of her wedding day.

 

Still, all those children running about, getting into trouble, making messes, no end of frustration and amusement both.   It had made her think of things she had not in a long time.  Not since she had been told mages of the Circle were not allowed certain things.

 

“Cullen,” she whispered into the dark.  “Have you ever given any thought to children?  To having a family?”  His breathing stopped, and she could just picture his carefully blank yet somehow still poleaxed expression.  She sighed, shifting about to face him, to see him as best she could.

 

“I know you need warning for this kind of conversation, but I think I want that, children, a family.  With you,” she told him, her heart in her words.  By the touches of moonlight that came in through the shuttered windows, she watched as he struggled with the concept suddenly thrust upon him.

 

“Do you mean instead of our original plans?” he asked, parsing out his words slowly, carefully.  “To help Templars and Tranquil?  The farm?  And—”

 

“Are you trying to gently tell me ‘no’, or are you surprised and stalling for time to think?” she asked dryly.

 

“Surprised and stalling,” he admitted.  Then he pulled her close, arm wrapping around her waist under the blankets, and she held her remaining hand over his heart, the steady beat of it a reassurance in and of itself.  “You never spoke of children, and I thought, perhaps, well, you had your apprentices.  They seemed very much like your children.  And, oddly enough, Cole.  You were a mother to him in many ways, I know.”

 

“I had them yes, but I try, I try not to speak of things I cannot have.  After you and I started to become close, Solas,” she bit out the name, the anger at her once-friend never far away.  It took but little to stoke that fire into a full blaze, but Cullen touched his forehead to hers and she held onto his calm.  “He warned me what the Anchor would do to an unborn child.  Truth to tell, I had already reached that conclusion myself.  The energy of the Anchor was phenomenal, it would have harmed anything so fragile.  It was a kindness, in a way.  Perhaps it still is.”

 

“Maker’s breath, Aurelia, you never said a word.”  In the moonlight she saw his eyes go wide with a sorrowful shock, and in his voice she heard his ache for her.

 

“You never spoke of children either.  If it was not on your mind, then the matter would have been moot.  If it was, I had no way of knowing until you said otherwise.”  Her tone was even, but she could not disguise the sliver of regret that twisted her mouth.  Gently, he cupped her cheek with his hand and kissed her softly, tenderly, not as if she would break, but because it contained all the words he didn’t know how to say.

 

“I am _fine_ , Cullen, truly,” she insisted, but was heartened and steadied by his kiss, by him.  “You need not think you were negligent in any way.”

 

“Truly?  I feel as though I should have been there for you, somehow,” he said, regret laced through his voice.

 

“You were, believe me, you were.  Besides, at the time I had thought there was no room for children in our life.  I did not feel any lack.”

 

“But now, now you have changed your mind.”

 

“I have.  Look at where we are.  Life is different now.  There _is_ room for children in it, and when I held Mia’s son I felt… I knew I wanted a child of my own, _our_ own,” she said, nuzzling close to him, his warmth, his quiet, and she smiled.  “So, have I given you enough time to think on it?”

 

“You know me too well, my Lady,” he said warmly, a smile of his own just visible.

 

“I do like to think so, ser Knight,” she said archly, and waited a moment to see if he might volunteer an answer to her original question.  When he did not, she felt compelled to prompt him, “Well?”

 

He sighed, brows furrowing.

 

“I love you, Aurelia.  More than I could have ever imagined loving anyone.  To have children with you, a family, it would be more than I could have asked for.  Yet,” he said, drawing the word out, fear a catch in his throat.  “I am not certain.”

 

“Not certain of what?”

 

“What kind of father do you think I would make?  I am not, I am not—”

 

“Not what?  Not gentle?  You most certainly are.  Not loving?  Demonstrably untrue.  Not good with children?  Your nieces and nephews adore you.  What is it you think you are not?” she asked, the steel and lightning crackling along her voice as she refused to allow him to deride himself.  Her good hand curled into a fist, her ire flaring through her again.  Cullen merely placed a hand over her fist, breathing a moment, and again he grounded her.

 

“Brave enough,” he said simply, his vulnerabilities laid before between them.  “To bring a life into this world, knowing what we know of Solas’s plans?  Aurelia, it’s madness.”

 

“It’s defiance.  I will not live my life in fear of one madman’s plans.  He will be stopped, but I will not wait until then to _live_ ,” she said in strident tones, the tones of the Inquisitor, of righteous determination.  Of a woman who had been told how she would live most of her life, and now was free to live as she chose.  Silence stretched between them as Cullen remained quiet for several moments, and then he let a breath of laughter escape him.

 

“I’ve married a madwoman,” he declared, though not without affection.

 

“You’re realizing that only now, my love?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her tone, touching her nose to his.  Gentle, easy affection that spun and wove between them.

 

“No, love.  Simply stating the facts of the matter.”  He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before gazing at her with a cautious hope.  “Do you, do you really think I would make a good father?”

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” she told him in a voice that held no doubt.

 

“Then… yes.  Children, a family, yes,” he answered finally, and she grinned brightly.  Then her smile turned sultry and captured Cullen’s lips with her own, opening her mouth under his, even as her hand traced around his shoulder, his arm, his back.  His thumb stroked her cheek, but then he broke away, wide eyed and a touch incredulous. 

 

“Do you mean to start _now_?” he asked, voice straining on the last, as if he could not believe what she had just done.

 

“Why not?” she asked indignantly, with half a mind to be offended at his question.

 

“The farm is not yet ready for us, and then your brother and his family are going to visit, and we will be rather busy with,” he rambled, listing off all the mundane details that occupied them at the moment.  Pressing her fingertips to his lips, she stilled his voice, and gave him a level look.

 

“Cullen, are you actually going to forestall the part where we _make_ a baby?”  She accompanied the question with a touch, fingertip tracing the line of his jaw, his neck, her leg hooking over his hips.  He sucked in a breath, the space between them vanishingly small and increasingly warm.

 

“… oh.  No.  No, I suppose not,” he replied, started for a moment before his voice became husky, low in her ear.  One of his hands reached up, his fingers tangling in her golden hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck to his attentions.

 

A sigh escaped her, and she smiled into the moon-lit darkness of the room they shared.  “Good answer.”


	2. In Which an Attempt to Cheer up Aurelia Results in New Friendships

Aurelia closed her eyes and sighed.  She had been overjoyed when she had first found out she was pregnant.  Cullen had been nearly beside himself with a completely endearing mixture of delight and terror.  Everything had progressed normally, without a single unexpected event or complication.  The Trevelyan women were made for certain things, after all.

 

However, she was now very pregnant.  Past the point of tolerance pregnant.

 

She was, in fact, a month overdue.

 

Summer was well and truly starting, and never in all her life had Aurelia been more uncomfortable.  She’d been stabbed, blown up, physically in the Fade, survived avalanches, revived from _Tranquility_ of all things, her own hand had tried to kill her.  All of that paled in comparison to being too heavy to move, her feet were swollen, and it was too bloody hot in spite of other people remarking how it was such a cool summer this year.  And on top of everything she felt and looked like a lumbering cow in a tent thanks to the billowy nature of the dresses she had to wear.

 

Worse, she only had herself to blame.

 

With a grunt of frustration, she threw her book across the porch in disgust, where it slid over the wood and eventually came to a stop against the railing with a soft _thunk_.  At least she could still move around, if only barely, and their house had been completed on time.   It was a lovely home, with several rooms in anticipation of a growing family, and Aurelia had breathlessly explored every corner of it once it had been completed.  At present, however, she mostly followed a path from her bedroom, to the garderrobe, to the porch and round and around. 

 

It was mind-numbingly dull, and she hated it.

 

“Surely Varric’s writing isn’t _that_ bad.”  Cullen’s voice broke into her grumbling, growling thoughts, and grounded her.  She let out a slow breath and opened her eyes to see him kneeling beside her, gazing up at her with such adoration that she almost forgot to be upset about how she looked and felt.  She shifted trying to find a more comfortable position, but there wasn't one to be had.  Worse, she felt a cramp in her middle and grimaced.  Everything cramped or ached lately, and what was one more twinge of discomfort?

 

“No,” she said sulkily, dimly aware that she was behaving like a willful child, but _Maker_ it was so _hot_.  And she just wanted her body back!  Cullen knew better than to laugh right now, but she could see a flare of amusement in his amber eyes.  Though it was only a flare, and his love of her shone in his whole face that she couldn’t be angry at him.  Tenderly, he placed a hand on her horrifyingly rounded belly, and as if on cue, the baby kicked.  Aurelia winced and wished the little creature would put some of that energy into _being born_ like it should.

 

“I know this past month has been difficult, so I thought perhaps a change of scenery would be welcome.  What do you say to going to visit Mia?” he asked brightly, putting more enthusiasm into his tone than strictly necessary.  Going to see Mia sounded grand, now that he’d suggested it.  It would get her really _out_ of the house and talking to Mia would be a welcome comfort, but it would have to be a carriage for her.  She couldn’t ride in her condition, and there was another source of ire.  She missed riding, the freedom and thrill of a gallop, or more simply riding sedately over the rolling hills of their property to inspect the fence line.  Just being able to _move_ and _do._ Not to mention, poor Dusty had to be entrusted to another while she lingered on, pregnant.

 

Instead, it would be a _carriage_ ride. 

 

Her disgust of carriages in general curled her lips and made her blue eyes spark with irritation.

 

“Give me the benefit of the doubt, love,” Cullen told her, drawing her attention back to him.  He smiled up at her, that scar on his lip twisting his grin as it always did, and as if compelled, she cupped his cheek and brushed the scar with her thumb.   “Come see the carriage before you say no.”

 

“Oh, very well,” she surrendered with a sigh.  Cullen’s smile grew wider, and he stood.  She held her hand out with an imperious air, and he took her one hand in his own while bracing his other arm around her shoulders then easily helped her to her feet.  Aurelia was not a small woman in general, a handspan under six feet tall, and there were delightful advantages to Cullen’s height, overtopping her by half a foot, and his strength.  One of them was that he could throw her around if they were of a mind.  Though of course the past month or so his strength had been dedicated to getting her _out_ of bed, not into it.

 

Another frustration of being a month past her due date.

 

Arm still around where her waist should have been, Cullen walked her to the barn that had just been completed. 

 

Theirs was not a traditional farm.  The project they had embarked upon after the dissolution of the Inquisition was one that was dear to both of them.  Templars who wished to leave the Order had once had no place to go, nowhere to turn as they struggled with their reliance on lyirum.  Further now that the truth of Tranquility was known and some convictions had been overturned, those mages that were returned to themselves were often too volatile to be contained in even the reformed Circles.  Neither could the newly formed College of Enchanters handle such people.   Here, however, they two knew each struggle well, and had the resources to offer safety and support while scared and injured people learned how to put themselves back together.  The barn housed animals, not for slaughter, but to care for.  Aurelia knew how instrumental Dusty had been in her own recovery from Tranquility, and she thought perhaps others might benefit from the easy, trusting presence of animals.  They did not judge, did not quibble or argue or demand.  They simply _were_ , and caring for something else had helped her more than she had expected to be possible.

 

At the moment, however, there were only a few older ex-Templars staying with them, and one younger mage who had been Tranquil for only a month before the Seekers had discovered him and removed him from his captors.  The young man, Talen, jumped at seeing them approach, holding a large, fluffy cat to his chest like it was a talisman.

 

“Ser!  Lady!  It’s all ready,” Talen rambled, his eyes too bright, and Aurelia knew he was likely still seeing Fade-halos around everything.  She had been disoriented for a long time after she had been severed and then reconnected to the Fade, and she was proud at how well this young man was handling himself.  The orange floof of cat that clearly loved him didn’t hurt either.

 

“Thank you Talen, but you said you were scared of the horses.”  Cullen spoke gently, and Aurelia’s frustration melted just a touch to see her husband’s care for their charges. 

 

“Oh, I am ser, Ella and Handic made up the carriage, I just, I wanted, I guess, to help?  I can sit here, make sure no one takes it,” Talen said.  The statement didn’t exactly make sense, and that was another side-effect, the slightly less than firm grip on reality.  But it was harmless at the moment.

 

“And I’m sure you did an excellent job, Talen,” Aurelia told him kindly.  He was a good lad, and a real test of reversing Tranquility.  If he could regain himself, more were surely to follow.  Talen drew himself up to his full, if unimposing height, and opened the side door for her.  Stepping into the dim barn, her slippered feet—because of course she could no longer wear _boots_ —shuffled through fresh straw.  It smelled like a stables, albeit a clean one, because it was.  In theory there should have been a stablemaster, but Ella and Handic both liked the work of keeping the animals fed and watered and clean.  It gave them purpose.  Their third ex-Templar, well.  Samson had apparently never been a congenial man, and kept to himself mostly.

 

Though he liked Duke, the Mabari Cullen had rescued from the Winter Palace.  And the dog liked Samson, much to Cullen’s not-so-secret despair.

 

But there, set off in the little carriage port, was not some closed in, horrifying stuffy box, but instead an open-topped carriage, with what looked like the latest kind of springing and support and a dual harness where their matched dappled-grey Percherons were already hitched.  The draft horses were massive, but gentle, and they whickered at seeing her.  With a grin, Aurelia shuffled forward and gently rubbed their noses, suddenly wishing she had apples on her.

 

“Well, does this meet with your approval, my Lady?” Cullen asked her softly as he tucked one golden curl behind her ear.

 

“It very much does, ser Knight,” she replied, delighted.  Of course her dear, sweet husband had thought of everything, down to the last detail, about what would pick her up out of her frustrations.  A grin curved her mouth, and ever so slightly hidden from view by the horses and carriage, he dropped a quick kiss to her lips. 

 

“All ready to go, ser!” Ella called out, and Cullen started, suddenly reminded they were not alone.  A blush crept up his neck, and his ears went red.

 

“Thank you, Ella, that will be all,” he choked out, and Aurelia laughed.  With a grumble, Cullen helped her into the carriage, and he climbed onto the driver’s bench, taking the reins in his hands.  Handic’s bearded face split into a knowing grin as he opened the barn door, and then they were off.  It might not be riding, but Aurelia felt the wind in her hair and watched the scenery go by much the same, and she felt a lightness in her heart.

 

She might be overwhelmingly pregnant, but she was a lucky woman to have a husband such as Cullen Rutherford.

 

* * *

 

“You sound happy Aurelia, that’s good to hear,” Dorian’s voice came through the crystal she wore about her neck.  While she was happy Dorian was keeping busy in Tevinter, foiling plots and dragging his country kicking and screaming into a better future, she missed him desperately.  He always knew how to pick her up out of a dreary mood.

 

“I am.  I’m actually out of the house today!  Properly, too, not just on the porch,” she told him brightly.  The sun warmed her cheeks, and she eschewed a hat in favor of letting the wind stream through her hair.  Not quite like riding, but it was closer than she’d been to it in months, and it was doing wonders for her mood.

 

“Thank Andraste!  I swear, my darling, you were far too cooped up.  It was making you nearly impossible to talk to,” Dorian teased, and she gasped in affected shock.

 

“Me?  Impossible to talk to?  You wound me!” she exclaimed, gasping in affected shock.   Then Cullen pulled back sharply on the reins, the horses whinnying in surprise, and the carriage slid to a halt.  Her startled grunt must have been heard over the sending crystal, because Dorian immediately began peppering her with questions.

 

“Aurelia?  What’s happened?  Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his cultured tones. 

 

“Cullen, what’s going on?” she asked, and then spoke in a lower tone.  “Dorian we only stopped.  Nothing dire.”

 

“We have a bit of wash out here,” Cullen told her.  He climbed down from the driver’s bench and went to inspect the road, and Aurelia relayed the information.

 

“A wash out?” Dorian asked.  “You really are living in a backwards place.  I keep telling you, come to Tevinter!  I could set you up with a lovely estate, and there are _paved_ roads.  No wash outs or—”

 

“Aurelia, oh Maker’s breath, are you _still_ talking to Dorian?  Do you ever put that thing down?” Cullen asked as he returned.  He opened the carriage door and leaned on the step there, his high boots spattered with the mud of the wash out. 

 

“I hear Cullen.  Cullen hello,” Dorian said cheerfully.  “And again, very sorry about that one time.  I apologized profusely for interrupting.  It is not my fault your wife chose to call me later.”

 

“Do you have to bring that up _every_ —”

 

“You were going to say about the road, my love,” Aurelia prompted, stepping between that little bout of banter.  She was happy, of course, that Dorian and Cullen were friends, it just so happened that Dorian’s friendship was often accompanied by copious teasing.  Cullen sighed, running his hand through his short blonde hair, the humid, early summer heat making it more curly than usual.  He wore simple leather breeches, and a red tunic over a white linen shirt.  She wondered if he would remove that tunic and only be wearing his shirt as the day wore on and it got warmer.  At the very least she could enjoy the sight of him.

 

“Still getting some river run off, it looks like, but thankfully it’s not very deep.  Should make it through just fine,” he assured her.  “We’ll make it to Mia’s, don’t worry.”

 

“I wasn’t worried, not in the slightest,” she said airily, smiling impishly at him.  That made an answering smile break over his face, and he levered himself the rest of the way into the carriage, making it dip under his weight, and kissed her soundly.  The fingers of one hand tangled in her hair and she gasped at the nearness of him, of feeling his weight hover over her.

 

“ _Ahem_ ,” Dorian coughed.  “Truly, not my fault.  You two are disgustingly insatiable, I hope you are aware.”

 

 _Sorry_ , Aurelia mouthed silently as Cullen screwed his eyes tight, as if trying to forget this had happened to him.  Again.  With a sigh, Cullen stepped out of the carriage, making it rock slightly again, and went to climb back up on the driver’s bench.

 

“Dorian, I think we’re going to give him a complex,” Aurelia mused, watching her husband pause a moment to collect himself.  He could be so confident and sexy sometimes, but when he got flustered he was adorable.  How he still got flustered after what they had been through together she didn’t know, but there it was.

 

“That was all your doing, not mine!   Don’t assign me any blame in this matter,” Dorian protested.

 

“Hm, I think it was a little bit your fault,” Aurelia insisted with a thoughtful hum.  “You could have cut the connection.”

 

“What and pass up such a golden opportunity?  Not on your life.”

 

“Ha!  You admit—”

 

The arrow thunking into the side of the carriage cut off the rest of her reply, and Aurelia took cover by reflex, curling around her belly protectively.  She heard the scrape of a sword leaving a scabbard and Cullen’s voice ring out over the green, summer grass, “Flee or die!”

 

This couldn’t be happening!  Ferelden was _peaceful_.  They were in the small stretch of road between their farm and Mia's family's compound, more a dirt track than anything.  This was madness!  But it was only the two of them, Cullen not in his armor, no shield, and she was pregnant.  Very pregnant.  Her heart hammered in her chest, and she pressed her remaining hand to her stomach.  Just because she was pregnant, however, did not mean she was without recourse.  She was a _mage_ , damn it, and like hell these _bandits_ win!

 

With a hard intake of break, Aurelia tried to haul herself back up, to throw lightning at these fools who dared, _dared_ to attack her, to cast a barrier around her husband, to keep him safe, but she felt suddenly weak.  Weak, and then a cramp gripped her body making her groan.  Because of course this obstinate, contrary child would do this to her.

 

“Aurelia, what’s happening?” Dorian cried frantically, his voice loud over the crystal.  He must be holding it to his face.  She panted through the pain.  It wasn’t so bad, but it had just started.  The local midwife, the woman who had delivered all of Mia’s babies, had walked Aurelia through all the steps so she would be prepared.  Cullen had sat in on that and turned green at some of the descriptions, but there had been no moving him once he’d decided he would be as prepared as possible, too.  Regardless, she knew it was going to get worse.

 

“Bandits,” she grit out between clenched teeth.

 

“Are you hurt?  You sound hurt.”

 

“No, not exactly.”

 

“Oh, oh Maker, Aurelia, are you serious?  _Now_?  You can’t do anything normally, can you?”

 

“Shut _up_ , Dorian,” she snapped, and didn’t even feel bad.  Oh Maker, she was _not_ going to put up with this.  She could hear the fight, metal ringing on metal, but she had to see what was going on.  The contraction passed, and she could breathe normally again.  Pushing off the floor of the carriage, she climbed back on to one of the passenger benches, and she saw Cullen surrounded by a ring of men.  They had axes and hammers, one had a mace, and only two had swords.  They were testing Cullen’s defenses, and so far he had kept them at bay.  Not professionals, then, men turned to banditry by circumstance.

 

Right now, she didn’t give a fuck about that.

 

She reached into the Fade, gathering up as much magic as she could, letting it fill her body.  The baby kicked, it always kicked when she cast, but she locked the sensation away.  Lightning, lighting would do, and she mimicked the movements of her staff with her arm, grounding the lightning through the metal frame of the carriage, but just before she could strike, one of the bandits opened the carriage door.  He must have seen her pop back up and come to investigate.  His mustachioed faced made an excellent target, and she unleashed a bolt right at him, making him fly out in a high arc to land at his fellows’ feet.

 

Cullen and the bandits turned around as one to see her haul herself to her feet, a ball of fire in her remaining hand, lighting crackling over her body and in her eyes, while around her the grass frosted over with a desperate cold.  Little green wisps floated around her, their voices high and musical, and one floated close her to belly, the little spirits ready to form a barrier around her at a moment’s notice.

 

“I.  AM HAVING.  A BABY.  SO.  You all had better _fuck off_ or help or _do something_ , because I am NOT HAVING THIS RIGHT NOW!” she roared.

 

There was complete silence over the grassy plain.

 

The wind wound through the grass, and all the men stared at her open mouthed.  Even the one she had hit with lightning managed to goggle up at her, all the hair singed off his face.  Then she pitched over, another cramp seizing her and her magic flickered and flared, the lightning lashing about wildly as she lost control of it, though the fire and the ice receded.  The spirits, however, whirled around her furiously, agitated and confused.

 

“Aurelia!” Cullen cried out.  He swatted the bandit’s weapons away with his sword and bulled through the rest to sprint to her.  She braced herself on her hand, trying to stay upright, but he reached her swiftly, and dropped his sword to the ground to lift her out of the carriage.

 

“Cullen!  Cullen, are you there?” Dorian’s voice came from the crystal.  “Aurelia’s in labor!”

 

“I am aware, Dorian,” Cullen replied acidly, settling Aurelia on to the grass.  The spirits bobbed around them both, whispering little trilling notes of concern.

 

“What are we going to do?!”  Dorian asked, and even Aurelia was taken aback.  She glanced up to see Cullen’s perplexed expression, clearly mulling over the _we_ portion of that statement, as if Dorian were here.  Aurelia shook her head, waving off the idea of how to answer _that_. 

 

“Breathe, Aurelia, just, breathe,” Cullen reminded her in soft, soothing tones.  She did not want soft, soothing tones.  She wanted to reduce those stupid bandits into cinders.  Gritting her teeth, she focused on her breathing however, but her eyes widened as she caught sight of the bandits over Cullen’s shoulder.  They were approaching again.

 

Cullen caught the line of her eyes, and retrieved his sword to stand over her, ready to kill any man that dared get too close.  Pain clouded her ability to pull on the Fade, but the little wisps turned an angry orange and hummed a bass note of warning.  The men held their hands up, and that was when she and Cullen both noticed they were not wielding their weapons any more.  One of them, an older man with grey hair stepped forward hesitantly.  They were all fairly poorly dressed, in patched breeches and worn tunics.  Their boots were also nearly at the end of their usefulness.

 

“That’s close enough,” Cullen growled, dropping into a fighting stance.  The man stopped and licked his lips, and Aurelia realized he was terrified.

 

“Ser, Lady, very sorry.  Just saw the fancy carriage and well, the boys, see, they thought you’d have valuables,” he rambled, his grey eyes trained on the point of Cullen’s sword.  “But we got a healer, of a sort.  Good man, he is.  Jadder!”  The crowd of men parted and shoved forward a man who looked to be in his early twenties, a bit cleaner than his fellows.

 

“Are you seriously suggesting,” Cullen began to say, his jaw clenched with barely suppressed rage.  Then Aurelia groaned as another cramp took her.  Her breath came in shallow gasps, and Cullen knelt beside her, one arm holding her steady while he kept his sword at the ready with his other hand.  It was too much, she knew it was too much.

 

“Cullen, let them,” Aurelia managed to say as she puffed.  Sweat dripped down her forehead, her back, all over her body, the sun beating down on her and the strain of labor was already getting to her.  Cullen’s eyes sought hers, and she saw how he was afraid.  So was she, but she had never let that stop her before, and damned if she would let that stop her now.  Aurelia nodded, and he sighed.

 

“Very well, but one wrong move,” he threatened, and all the men nodded.  Though they were wary of Cullen, she saw a few men back away from her cautiously.  Nothing said run for your life like a mage in labor.  The little wisps did return to their natural green glow and huddled close to her like puppies, though.  The bandits did their best to ignore that.

 

“Don’t you worry, Ser, Lady,” Jadder told them, kneeling in front of her with a distinctly professional air.  His accent was also different from the other men, slightly more cultured in contrast to the rougher tones of his fellows.  “I’ve got medical training.”

 

“And he’s helped all our wives with their babes too!” one of the other men said proudly.  “Real good at his trade, he is.”

 

“Look, whoever you are,” Dorian interjected, making every bandit there start in terror at the disembodied voice.  As if the spirits weren’t enough of a deterrent.  “I am Dorian of House Pavus, and I swear on everything I hold dear, if she comes to any harm, I will send a very large and angry qunari after you vile, uncouth men!”

 

“Your, uh, necklace is talking, milady,” the leader said nervously.

 

“Do you hear me!  He has a mercenary company, and will hunt all of you down!” Dorian ranted.

 

“Dorian!  Good-bye!” she yelled and tapped the stone, turning it off.  She did _not_ need another man around her right now, even if that man was her dearest friend and brother to her heart.  He was being bloody annoying, and she’d rather not deal with him in addition to everything else at the moment.  Then she pointed at the medic, Jadder, she thought his name was.  “You, come here and help.”

 

The man swallowed heavily and knelt between her legs.  Then stopped and fearfully glanced up at Cullen.

 

“Oh bloody hell, man, just… just do what needs doing,” Cullen commanded, and Jadder nodded.

 

“Right, then, milady, gonna need you to be on something a bit cleaner than the ground, and your husband here, he can support you yes?” Jadder asked.

 

“There’s blankets in the carriage,” Cullen answered.  One of the men dove for the carriage and started to rummage around, while Cullen got one arm underneath Aurelia and lifted her up.  She groaned as another cramp broke over her, but the other men got a blanket underneath her, and Cullen lowered her back to the ground.  Leaning against him, she breathed heavily through the pain while Jadder delicately hiked up her dress to examine her.

 

Tactfully, the other men looked away.  A few started to walk a perimeter line, as if they were going to stand against an attack, never mind that _they_ had started this mess.  Others backed up behind her, but stayed close at hand in case Jadder called out for anything else.  It was clear that Cullen was not going to leave her side, and Aurelia was grateful for that.  Now that it was time, a shiver of fear ran through her.  A month overdue was dangerous, and all she had was a man who supposedly had medical training, and the good intentions of everyone else around her.  Even all the little wisps could do was offer their comforting little songs.

 

“Everything looks normal, milady, but no pushing yet, alright?  Not quite ready to do that, but you keep breathing steady, and we’ll be just fine,” Jadder said, his patter soothing.  Aurelia nodded, and tried to remember to breathe as each contraction hit.  Cullen’s strong arms supported her, and he kept his own breathing even for her.  In and out, in and out.

 

The sun rose higher in the sky, and she kept breathing, but nothing was happening.  Aurelia had lost track of time.  There was only breathing and the occasional cramp, but Jadder kept telling her _not_ to push.  She very much wanted to push, but the baby was not cooperating. 

 

“How much longer?  She can’t keep this up forever,” Cullen growled, his voice low and threatening, but underscored by a fearful tremor.

 

“I’m fine, Cullen, I’m fine,” she insisted between panting breaths, but he didn’t pay attention to her.

 

“These things just take time, ser, her body’s not ready to have the baby yet is all,” Jadder said helplessly.  Then one of the other men spoke up.

 

“Seen this before ser.  I got five older sisters meself, and all of them were like this on the first one.  Took ages, it did,” he told Cullen.  Aurelia, however, didn’t like the sound of that at all.

 

“Are you saying,” she gasped, “that we could be here.  For the whole damned _day_?”

 

“Possibly even into the night,” Jadder said cautiously.

 

“Bloody fucking hell we will!  Speed this up, or I’m going to get upset!”

 

“Aurelia, love.”  Cullen spoke gently, but that grated on her even more.

 

“No!  Don’t ‘ _Aurelia, love_ ,’ me!  Like I’m being _unreasonable_.  I’m pushing a _person_ out of me, and this scrawny _boy_ says it might go into the _night_?”  Her voice rose in pitch, nearly a screech, and some of the men nearby visibly winced.  Aurelia did not care.  “No, no that’s not happening.  We’re going to back home.”

 

“I would not recommend that,” Jadder commented quietly.

 

“Aurelia, we can’t do that, but surely these men can help?  Set up a shelter for you?  Get you some water, yes?” Cullen offered desperately, clearly hoping that she would settle down.  There was a round of mumbled, cowed agreement from the bandits turned mid-wives, and Aurelia could not find fault in the idea.

 

“We’ll need clean water, too, for when the baby does come,” Jadder said.

 

“Fine,” she snapped.  “Just… see to it.”

 

“Of course, love,” Cullen said, kissing her temple sweetly.  Normally she would lean into that touch, but now it took everything she had not to slap him right in the face for reasons she didn’t have the time to understand.  That wasn’t fair though, and she tamped down the urge.  Then he squared his shoulders and took charge, speaking to the grey haired man who led the others.  “Get your men to go in groups of three, water and shelter, in that order of priority.  Also, can any of them ride?  Have them double up on one of the horses, we’ll keep the other to pull the carriage if need be, and have them go to the Rutherford farm.  You know where that is? Good.”

 

The leader of the bandits, whose name Aurelia still didn’t know and didn’t care about at that point, started to relay Cullen’s orders.  Quickly, much changed.  Suddenly, she was lifted and settled back on her blankets underneath a hastily constructed lean-to, with a fire going and boiling some water clean in pots from the bandit’s watch-camp.  One of the older men, who apparently had eight children and was no stranger to screaming madwomen, helped get Aurelia some cool water to drink, then spelled Cullen supporting her so he could do the same and have a little something to eat.  _He_  got to eat, and she thought that was terribly unfair.  Not that she was hungry anyway.

 

Then the sending stone winked to life, and she wanted to smash it.

 

“Dorian,” she called out, tapping the crystal to activate it.  “ _What_ do you want?”

 

“Finally!  To know that you’re alright!” he exclaimed.  “I’ve been sitting here, losing my mind by inches, I’ll have you know.”

 

“Sorry to make you worry,” she said sweetly.  Too sweetly.  Then another contraction hit her, and she leaned forward.  Groaning, she breathed heavily, and Cullen was there, breathing with her, murmuring support and encouragement and lovely things about how much he loved her, and how proud of her he was, and how she was doing so well.

 

She still wanted to deck him for some obscure reason.

 

“Ah, hah, yes,” Dorian stuttered.  “Well, I’ll just… Aurelia, please let me know you’re alright, yes?”  The thread of concern in Dorian’s tone was what broke Aurelia’s anger at pretty much the entire world around her, and she sighed.  Closing her eyes, she leaned back into Cullen’s arms and tried to rest before another cramp started.

 

“I promise.  I will,” she said, and with a hurried good-bye they let the sending crystal go quiet.  Time passed in another blur of breathing through contractions, of Cullen by her side urging her on, giving her strength, and the medic boy checking on the state of things every so often. 

 

The sun was starting to set, and the boys that had been sent off on the horse had yet to return.   Did anyone know where they were?   How alone were they out here?  Questions occupied her mind, in between bouts of pain, and still she had yet to be allowed to push.  Maker but she wanted to push, her body wanted to, but she held back.  Then Jadder examined her again, and caught her eyes with a tentative smile.

 

“Time to push, milady,” he told her, and Aurelia wasted no time.  She bore down as best as she could, her legs shaking with exhaustion.  She pushed and pushed and pushed, but it felt like things were moving fast now, and she hoped it would be over soon.

 

“You’re doing so well, love, you can do this,” Cullen told her, over and over.  She held his hand in a vice grip, but if he was in pain he gave no sign.  Good.  She screamed, and she could feel the baby moving.

 

“The head!  The head’s been born!” Jadder cried.  Outside the little lean-to there was a ragged cheer from the other men, and Aurelia grit her teeth.

 

“Oh fuck off!” she yelled, and was greeted with blessed silence.  Just the crickets chirping in the field.

 

“You’re near the end,” Jadder promised, and Aurelia could barely nod in acknowledgement. 

 

“Cullen, Cullen.”  She breathed his name, and he curled around her, bearing her up, and she started to cry.  She was angry, but she was crying, and she had no idea what was going on anymore, just that she was having a baby, oh Maker, a _baby_.

 

“I’m here, love, I’m here,” he told her gently, so much love his voice it nearly stopped her heart.  He brushed her long hair away from her face, having stuck to her with sweat, and she clung to him as she pushed.  A pained cry broke from her, and she felt a sudden, strange emptiness inside of her, and then she heard another cry.  Her _baby’s_ cry.  It was loud and plaintive in the early evening, and Aurelia suddenly ached to hold it.  The wisps that had been huddled next to her suddenly broke away from her to curiously inspect her child, nudging and trilling over it with gleeful excitement.  Jadder, clearly a man good under pressure, ignored the spirits as best he could, though his eyes were a little wild around the edges.  Instead, he started to clean off the child and turned to Cullen, “Need something warm, ser, something as clean as possible.”

 

Without hesitating, Cullen retrieved his tunic, removed sometime during the day, Aurelia couldn’t say when, and Jadder wrapped their child up gently. 

 

“You have a daughter, ser, milady,” the healer told her, and gently laid the bundle in her left arm, at least able to rest the baby there in spite of having no hand.  With her right, she touched her daughter’s perfect little nose, and heavy sobs broke from Aurelia then.  Cullen held her close, his forehead resting against hers as he, too, gazed down in their daughter in wonder.  A child, a daughter, all her own.  No Templars to come take her away and give her to the Chantry.  Her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest for a moment as she held all she had once thought she could never have.  A husband, a home, a child, a family.  Tears ran down her cheeks and she held her daughter as tightly as she dared.

 

Then Aurelia felt another cramp.

 

“What?!  I _know_ it’s not twins!” she shouted, glaring at Jadder.  The boy held his hands up as if he was ready to defend himself.

 

“It’s the afterbirth, milady.  That’s all.  Might be your husband could take the babe for a bit?  Could give you some time to clean up?” Jadder offered cautiously.  Cullen turned to her first.

 

“Go on,” she told him, feeling like she’d just fought a running battle that was suddenly over.  She wanted to collapse.  “Hold your daughter.”  His hands shaking, Cullen swallowed heavily and then carefully, as if he were cradling spun glass, took his daughter in his arms.  A surprised huff escaped him and a slow smile of wonder bloomed on his face, and Aurelia saw her husband fall in love for the second time. 

 

“She’s heavy,” he remarked.

 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Aurelia groused, but good naturedly this time.  Then she grimaced, another cramp.  Cullen’s expression went from delighted to worried in half a heartbeat, but she shook her head.  “Just the afterbirth, like the boy said.  I’ll be just fine, Cullen.  I would like to be clean and you _not_ to be here for that.”

 

“Very well, but I’ll be right outside.  For anything,” he promised.  He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before he left the little lean-to.  While Jadder helped her with the last stage of labor and cleaning up, Cullen held their daughter under a darkening sky, the stars winking to life, and the little wisps finally leaving to return to the Fade.

 

“Ser, if you don’t mind,” one of the men said to Cullen.  Aurelia could hear them all easily.  “But you don’t hold her like that.  Head goes here.”

 

“That’s a bit of a sloppy swaddle.  Look, let me help you get that right.  Jadder’s a good man, but not much for swaddling.  Takes practice that does,” another said, and Aurelia just had to see this.  Sitting up fully, she peeked out and saw Cullen surrounded by men who hours ago had attacked them, but were now offering advice.  Cullen was taking it all terribly seriously, of course, his brows knit with concentration as he absorbed all the information he could about how to do things _right_. 

 

Her anger had vanished at her daughter’s first breath, and now her heart nearly burst with love and joy.  She was aware she had never been the most even-tempered person, but this was a bit much of a swing, even for her.  Still, as soon as she was clean, she called for her little family to return, and she held her daughter again, this time properly swaddled and presented to her with pride by her husband.

 

“Don’t mean to pry, ser, milady, but, um… lads all want to know, what’re you gonna call her?” the bandit leader asked, his name still a mystery to her.  Aurelia gazed down at her daughter, with her little bow mouth and a soft tuft of fine blond hair.  Her eyes were blue, but they might darken into amber like her father’s.  Time would tell.  

 

“Sabine,” Aurelia answered proudly.  “Sabine Rutherford.”

 

“Well, welcome to the world, little miss,” the man said to Sabine, his eyes crinkling in delight.  “She’s gonna be a good one, ser, milady.”

 

“Ah, thank you?” Cullen replied, suddenly aware of the ridiculous nature of their current situation.  On a lonely stretch of road, bandits turned something like friends all around them, and her daughter born in a lean-to and practically under the stars.

 

“See me and the lads have been talking, and well, lad just got back from your farm, and you need staff you do.  Especially now that you got a little one.  We’d like to join up, be respectable men again.”

 

Aurelia laughed. 

 

“Not a joke, milady!” the former bandit leader protested.

 

“Aurelia, love, this isn’t funny,” Cullen admonished her.

 

That only made her laugh harder.

 

Then the sending crystal gleamed into life again, and Dorian’s voice floated out into the night, “Ah, what did I miss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duke the Mabari is the name thought up by criticalmode and nicked (I asked!) because its too good not to use.


	3. In Which Cullen's Organizational Tendencies are Rendered Completely Pointless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ FIRST
> 
> You will meet someone in this chapter who is an original Avvar character. One, Kjarval Blight-Foe. The reason for his existence is based on extreme silliness, but he's kind of necessary for this whole part of the insanity to have worked.
> 
> If you want to know more about him, check out his [introduction over here](https://www.reddit.com/r/dragonage/comments/7x9uhd/spoilers_all_share_your_ocs_romance_valentines/du6oj9k/) and then if you want more, [here's a little ficlet with him and Cassandra](https://www.reddit.com/r/dragonage/comments/7xzdbn/spoilers_alloctime_to_be_storytellers_the_dragon/ducd5n5/). Yes, you read that right. It's madness, but hopefully _delightful_ madness.

“… and there we are,” Aurelia cooed to her daughter, walking her fingers along her daughters plump little tummy and bopping her on her perfect little nose.  Sabine giggled, her dark blue eyes closing with unbounded glee, her adorably chubby arms and legs waving about.

With her daughter now in her little purple dress, a gift from Leliana, Aurelia felt very proud of herself.  It was no easy thing to dress an eleven month old baby, let alone with only one arm, but she was learning to manage it.  The trick was distraction, which was easy to do with calling little wisps to float about and trill happily at Sabine. Cullen wasn’t entirely thrilled that she used the spirits to help coral their daughter, but she lacked two hands. 

He knew better to argue the point further than that.

“How are we doing?” Cullen asked as he stepped into the bedroom portion of the luxurious suite Cassandra had given them for the duration of their stay in Val Royeaux.  He was laden down with more bags and accoutrement than Aurelia had believed possible. And she had travelled with Josephine. Babies, as it turned out, required nearly as many supplies as an army.  Or any baby that was in Cullen’s care, perhaps.

“We are doing very well.”  Her voice was light, and she scooped Sabine off the plush, red quilt on the bed and placing holding her snuggly between her hip and the crook of her left arm.  At least she still had that, she thought, though it was difficult to hold Sabine in general since she was pregnant again. They had wanted a large family, and she had seen no reason to wait.  She could easily recall her surprise and flutter of joy quickly followed by Cullen’s exuberant delight when she told him. Even more so when the midwife had confirmed she could hear two heartbeats.

She was still a good month off of the due date, and when Dorian told her several months ago that he would be in the city for Summerday, she had not hesitated to find a way to attend as well.  Bull was in the city too, and the two men had fussed over Sabine like she was a princess, and her daughter had both of them neatly wrapped around her chubby little fingers. Even Cassandra was not immune to Sabine’s charms, and had practically melted when holding her for the first time.  Though that had been after protesting that she had no idea how to hold babies, and it had taken Cullen had all but thrown Sabine at Cassandra to still those objections. 

It was time to go home however, and they would be returning on a ship this very afternoon for Denerim, followed by an easy two day journey back to their compound in South Reach.  Perhaps by the time they returned the runic-arm Dagna had been tinkering on would be completed. In the duration, Aurelia had also been experimenting with manifesting a replacement lower arm and hand, much the same way she manifested a blade.  That option, however, was less than optimal for holding a baby unfortunately. In spite of all that, she could hold her daughter, and that was all that mattered. 

“Can we answer Daddy?  We’re doing very well aren’t we, little love?” Aurelia asked, directing her attention back to her daughter.  She brushed Sabine’s golden curls away from her face, still marveling at how soft her daughter’s hair was.

“Ba-ba-ye-pt,” Sabine babbled, nodding enthusiastically.  Their daughter had started to nearly form full words, though they were mostly mixed up in babble still, and Cullen had been hanging on tenterhooks for her first proper word.  Aurelia would have bet anything he would be beside himself if it was  _ Da _ , or some variation thereof.  She’d been trying to arrange it for him, but alas babies did as they would.

“That’s good,” he said softly, his whole heart on his face as he gazed at his wife and daughter.  Aurelia’s heart fluttered at the gentle adoration in his eyes, and she crossed the room to kiss him tenderly.  Even loaded down with bags and Maker knew what else, Cullen returned her kiss soundly. Only for Sabine to smack them both at the sudden lack of attention.  They laughed into the kiss and broke apart. 

“Oh, excuse me, how terribly rude of us,” Cullen teased, and kissed his daughter about her face, sending her into pealing laughter.  Then he straightened and brushed his lips against Aurelia’s cheek. “I’ll just pack the rest of our things in advance of the ship’s porter arriving.”

“We could have let the staff do all that, you know,” she pointed out.  Cullen huffed in dismissive irritation at the very idea.

“They wouldn’t do it right, and you and I both know that,” he countered sternly.  Aurelia let the matter drop. He should be allowed some victories, after all.

“Alright then.”  She skipped over the matter and took a moment to adjust Sabine on her hip, moving her to her right to hold her more securely.  “I’ll be in the gallery alcove. I thought I’d light a candle for Matty.” Then she turned back to Sabine, dropping a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, and taking a moment to breathe in a rare moment when Sabine was not, in some fashion, soiled.

“We’re going to say hi to your Uncle Matty, Sabine,” she said softly.  “I’ll have to tell you all about him when you’re older, because I know he would have loved you very much.”  Sabine took this opportunity to stick her hand into Aurelia’s mouth. Calmly, Aurelia turned her head to dislodge her daughter’s fist and continued on as if nothing untoward had happened.  “Yes, yes I know, very fun that.”

“Will you be alright?” Cullen asked her.  Matty, her brother gone these five years now, dead at the explosion at the Conclave, and yet at times she could have sworn he was with her.  In the mountain pass after Haven, when she had been reconnected to the Fade, wild and nearly mad, and maybe, sometimes, when Sabine slept safe in her cradle, a wisp more familiar than most hung over her for slightly longer than the others.  It could be her imagination, or not. She no longer thought of losing him on a daily basis, but on occasion her heart ached for missing him. He had been a near constant in her life until the Conclave, her brother the Templar, protecting her from the moment she had been born.

With a deliberate breath, Aurelia straightened and nodded, blinking back her tears.

“I’m sure I will be.  And Cassandra will be there if not,” Aurelia said, brightening instantly.  Because it was not  _ just _ Cassandra.  Kjarval seemed to be in permanent attendance these days, and if anything the sight of Cassandra dealing with her Avvar warrior could lift anyone out of any bad mood.

 

* * *

 

“First-Thaw!” Kjarval boomed the moment he saw her.  She had made her way out of the Residence, the personal home used by the Divine during her lifetime, and into the Grand Cathedral, and then gone to the upper gallery that overlooked the grand structure of the main hall.  Aurelia grinned at the sight of the completely out of place man, massive in comparison to even his own people, to say nothing of the Orlesians around him. His dark hair and beard were moderately tamed, though he kept enough wild touches such as his braids and beads and feathers to satisfy others that they had, in fact, seen an Avvar warrior.  His deep brown eyes, however, were open and honest and delighted. At his side, Cassandra rolled her eyes, though her sharp features turned into a grin in spite of her appearance of exasperation.

Cassandra was not in her formal attire, and in spite of the fact that she was, in theory, one of the most iconic figures in Val Royeaux at the moment, no one seemed to notice her without, as she said,  _ that hideous hat _ .  With her typically understated smile, Cassandra closed the distance between them, only to be beaten to the punch by Kjarval.  The large Avvar happily wrapped an arm around Aurelia and squeezed, making her wheeze. Sabine, however, giggled, digging her hands into the man’s beard and pulling with all her might.

“Ah-ha!  A strong one you’ll be!” Kjarval declared.  His grin was a touch pained, but Aurelia was not about to pass up the opportunity.

“Do you mind, Kjarval?” she asked, unceremoniously transferring Sabine to the large man.  In spite of the beard pulling, however, Kjarval did like Sabine and happily took her. He pulled up her dress and blew raspberries on her belly.  In the gallery of the Grand Cathedral. In front of the Divine. Aurelia glanced to Cassandra and found only a thoughtful fondness in the woman’s dark eyes. 

Trying not to preen at how well her match-making efforts in the Frostback Basin had turned out, Aurelia knelt heavily on the little bench provided.  Cassandra knelt beside her, and like five years prior, they both prayed for those they lost, brothers who had tried to protect and gave their lives in the attempt.  Votive stick in hand, Aurelia lit a candle for Matty and watched it burn for a moment. Then she caught a flicker of a different kind of light out the corner of her eye.  It was a flash of green, she heard Sabine coo and giggle, and Aurelia felt a cramp in her middle.

“Oh no.”

“Aurelia?  What is it?”  Cassandra gripped her arm, concern in every crack of her voice.  Aurelia let out a long, steady breath, and wanted to curse her own stubborn notion from months ago to leave the farm at all.  But she’d just  _ had _ to see Dorian, didn’t she?

“Cass, I think we should send someone for Cullen,” Aurelia grit out between clenched teeth.

“Why… oh!  Oh! Kjarval!” Cassandra snapped, and the Avvar’s demeanor went from giant boy to focused warrior in moments.  “Find Cullen, bring him here. Leave Sabine with me!” she ordered as Kjarval was about to fly out of the Grand Cathedral  _ with _ Aurelia’s daughter.  Kjarval transferred custody of Sabine, Cassandra holding the just-shy of one-year-old baby in one arm, and then was promptly running through the gallery to the shocked and dismayed cries of Olesians and pilgrims alike.

“Cass, help.”  Aurelia flailed with her one good hand, not quite able to stand.  She’d been able to, somewhat, fight off bandits while she’d been in labor with Sabine, but then she’d been angry.  Now, now she was shocked and at a loss. The twins were  _ early _ .  She knew that was just as dangerous as  _ late _ .  Maker help her, could her children not arrive  _ on time _ ?

“Of course.”  Cassandra took her hand and easily levered Aurelia up.  Divine she might be, but she had not stopped training, for which Aurelia was deeply grateful right now.  “We will find you the best midwife in all of the city, I promise.”

Aurelia could only groan in pained response.

 

* * *

“Careful, man!” Cullen barked.  He strode across the garishly patterned carpet to where the ship porters were mishandling all of Sabine’s things.  The men had arrived not long after Aurelia had left, and they were to take everything down to the ship that awaited them for their journey home.  A reliable Ferelden crew, thankfully. But the men were still sailors, and had a rough way about them. He and Aurelia would need Sabine’s things all close at hand, even though the sea voyage would be a quick one. 

The porter visibly sighed, and Cullen tried to tamp down his frustration.  The man was just doing his job, and doing his best. He was just nervous. The twins were not due for another month, but soon the house would have three small children in it.  The impending chaos occupied his thoughts more than it should when Aurelia or Sabine weren’t at hand to keep his mind off of it. With a sigh, he rubbed at his temples, a habit from the days when his headaches had been near to constant, and tried to not be a  _ general _ about it all.

“Just… please be careful,” he amended in a mollified tone.  “These things belong to my daughter.” And as if those were the magic words  _ my daughter _ , the porter’s eyes lit up with realization and sympathy.

“Of course, ser, not a worry, ser.  It’ll be all packed away snug for the little one.  Know how it is, have three me own self, all girls, bless ‘em.”  The porter rambled on amiably after that, and Cullen’s shoulders relaxed fractionally.  There was a whole hidden world out there of parents who, upon learning that you too had children, suddenly turned into an unexpected ally. 

With the transport of their belongings under better control, and reassured that nothing of Sabine’s at least would be mishandled, Cullen left the men to their work.  Perhaps he could catch up Aurelia in the Grand Cathedral? Their ship was not due to leave till the afternoon, and they might be able to have one last meal out in the city.  Cullen was Fereldan to the bone of course, but those little cakes that could be found in all cafés were not half bad. Navigating the maze of the Divine’s Residence in an effort to rejoin his wife and daughter, Cullen idly wondered if they could get the cook at the farm to make cakes like that.

Certainly it would be a welcome change from the lemon cakes Aurelia demanded with startling frequency.

Momentarily occupied by his own thoughts, Cullen only belatedly noticed something odd about the flow of people around him.  Normally the courtyard between the Residence and the Grand Cathedral teemed with people heading  _ into _ the largest Chantry in Thedas.  At present, however, people were all but  _ fleeing _ the imposing stone building.

His heart froze in his chest.

Aurelia and Sabine were in there, and anything could have happened.

Throwing his shoulder into it, Cullen bulled through the crowd, but it was like a fish going upstream.  The press of bodies and their direction threatened to sweep him away,  _ away _ from his wife and daughter. 

“Aurelia!” he called out.  Heads turned to frown at him, and he heard mutters of discontent, though it was largely in Orlesian and thus passed him by.  Perhaps Aurelia was in the crowd, but if she was, undoubtedly there’d be a bubble of space around her. Her little spirits produced barriers around her faster than a man could think, and they would keep her safe.  Her and Sabine. Yes, he thought, his wife was not without recourse.

“CULLEN!”  The booming voice echoed from the stone buildings that ringed the courtyard, and the crowd parted as Kjarval Blight-Foe strode toward him.  Cullen was not a small man, but the Avvar was a good handspan and a half taller than him, and broadly built like all his people. Add in the general wildman appearance, and the crowd parted all too willingly before him. 

Able to move, Cullen ran through the gap, and wasn’t sure what to make of Kjarval’s lunatic smile.  Or the waterskin he held aloft in his hand.

“What?  Is it Aurelia?  Sabine? Is everything alright?”  Cullen’s questions were lightning-quick, and his chest  _ squeezed _ .  Swallowing his panic, he allowed Kjarval to sling an arm around his shoulders and usher him inside the Cathedral.  The Avvar’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm and delight, and Cullen was even more confused.

“First-Thaw is in labor!” Kjarval declared happily, and Cullen’s world promptly came to a screeching halt.  Then Kjarval shoved the waterskin in his hand and slapped him on the back. “Drink up man!” 

Cullen did as instructed by sheer reflex, and wondered how in the Maker’s name Kjarval had found  _ mead _ in Val Royeaux.

 

* * *

“Fucking  _ damn it _ ,” Aurelia screamed as she sank to the polished marble floor of the Grand Cathedral.  It was only Cassandra’s strong arm around her middle that kept her from falling over completely.

All she’d wanted to do was pray for Matty and get on her ship and go home.  To have her twins in a  _ reasonable _ place.  But no. No.  Her children were not going to arrive on time, it seemed.  At least Cassandra’s orders had emptied the Cathedral with startling speed.  Even without her fancy and hideous hat and robes of office, people responded to her whip-crack voice of authority.

Cassandra held Aurelia easily in one arm and Sabine in the other, her daughter thankfully distracted by the little spirit that tickled her nose.  More of the wisps surrounded her again, called through the Fade by her distress. So help her, if one of those really  _ was _ Matty and had not found a way to warn her, she was going to be very upset with her dead brother.

Then she heard the sharp, staccato beat of bootheels on the marble and echoing in the vaulted chamber above.  Cullen was suddenly there, running to her and dropping to his knees at her side. He pressed his forehead to her temple and wrapped his arms around her, displacing Cassandra.  Aurelia clung to him, her fingers digging into his linen tunic for support. Like with Sabine, he kept his breathing even for her, and she matched him breath for breath, in and out.  There was something sweet on his breath, though, and it bothered her for a moment before another cramp hit her.

Keening in pain, Aurelia curled up around her belly.  Her dress bunched up around her legs, the supposedly cool and gossamer thin cotton no barrier against her own body heat.  Sweat gathered on her forehead and ran into her eyes. Closing her eyes, she leaned back into Cullen’s arms and exhaled slowly.

Then Cullen, her husband, her knight, her love, the man who had been a rock in the storm of her life, the man whose quiet presence had calmed her worst rages, wobbled.

“Cullen?”  Her voice was thready, confusion lacing it, and she tried to turn to get a look at his face.  It was as if he were more braced against  _ her _ , than her bracing against him.  His face was flushed, and she touched her fingertips to his cheek.  It was warm. Very warm. Alarm gripped her, and she tried to think of when Sabine had last been sick, if Cullen had caught whatever little sniffle their daughter had picked up.  “Are you ill?”

“Hm?  Noooo?”  His words were slurred, and she blinked.  Honey, it was honey on his breath.

“You’re drunk!”

“What!  No!” 

“Cullen!” Cassandra’s cry of disbelief was precisely and accusingly aghast. 

“I didn’t!  I mean, I only—”

“My  _ dear _ knight,” Aurelia said between clenched teeth, the pain in her lower body unable to compare to the righteous anger that surged through her.  “What  _ did _ you mean?”

“I’m  _ not _ drunk, I’m,” he insisted, but his face crumpled suddenly.  “I just love you  _ so much _ .”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Aurelia cried, trying to disentangle herself from her  _ drunk husband _ .  The question of  _ how _ he got drunk between leaving her company and arriving back here, she had no answer for, and she didn’t think it particularly mattered.  Cassandra’s dark eyes were as hard as obsidian as she glared at Cullen for his apparent lapse of judgment, but Aurelia doubted there was much time to apportion blame.

“Ba-Ma-Fu!” Sabine babbled.  Aurelia saw her daughter wiggling happily in Cassandra’s arms, clearly thinking everything going on around her was for her benefit.  Some silly new entertainment for her alone. Cassandra stared down at the baby, her face the picture of horror as a swear word had almost been her first word, and Aurelia wanted to scream.

Scream more.

Then another voice broke into the commotion, a heavily accented feminine voice, “Oh my, what do we have here?”

From underneath blond brows, Aurelia glared up to see the most unprepossessing midwife she’d ever seen.  The woman was younger than Aurelia herself, and skinny as a beanpole, full and flush of eager helpfulness.  Trying to shake off Cullen’s effusive attempt to cuddle her, Aurelia glared at Cassandra.

“ _ This _ is the best midwife in all of Val Royeaux!?” 

“Well, actually, I was the closest?” The woman tripped over her words, blushing at the admission.  About to launch back into full voice, Aurelia was brought up short by the woman’s next question, “I am so sorry sorry to ask such a thing, Herald, but… is your husband drunk?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh.  Of course, now, um, shall we?”  The woman knelt down and examined her, making little comments to herself in Orlesian.  Aurelia knew  _ some _ of the language, but not the technical terms the midwife was using, and she panted through another set of contractions.  Cullen was not the support she had been expecting, and she propped herself up on her hands.

“How is she doing?” Cassandra asked, moving quickly across the floor and bearing Aurelia up with one arm.  Sabine was in the other, but it was clear Cassandra was going to need to give up her hold on the girl before long if she wanted to keep helping.

“Well, she had a bit of an early start, it looks like, and things seem to be moving quickly, isn’t that nice?  Over soon, yes? Though I don’t think we could move her from this area, I think we could get her to another spot.  Maybe something soft to lie on, no?” Another question, another rising little hesitant lilt to the woman’s voice, and Aurelia wondered if she always ended on a question. 

“Of course,” Cassandra said briskly.  Raising her head, Cassandra caught the eye of someone who had been lingering outside the immediate zone of chaos.  “Kjarval! Come here, take Sabine and get someone to bring cushions!” There was no room for argument in those tones, and the Avvar warrior hopped to, eyeing Aurelia with a little trepidation, but he happily scooped up her daughter.  Sabine giggled as Kjarval’s beard tickled her face, and she pulled on his beard again, having decided she liked that game best.

“Come little one!  We’re on a mission!” Kjarval declared.  His grin was a touch pained, but he didn’t falter in his orders.  Cassandra, free of Sabine, held Aurelia more securely, displacing Cullen entirely.  Cullen shook his head, as if trying to clear it, and Aurelia hoped he came around soon.  He didn’t drink often, and she knew even mild ales hit him hard. Another lingering effect of cutting himself off lyrium, all of his tolerances were shot to hell.  Cassandra, however, glared at Cullen, her jaw clenched so hard it twitched.

“And get something to help Cullen!” Cassandra shouted at Kjarval’s retreating back.

“I have just the thing!” Kjarval promised.  Thankfully, he was back soon, servants trailing behind him bringing cushions and clean water and all sorts of other things that were necessary according to the very young and hopefully not inexperienced midwife.  Cassandra hauled Aurelia up easily, leaving Cullen to be looked after by Kjarval, and Aurelia was grateful when she was moved to a plump featherdown mattress, miles and miles softer than the hard marble floor. Her hair had come free of its braid, strands of lose hair clinging to her face.  Cassandra had a clean, cool cloth in hand and was dabbing at Aurelia’s forehead. She leaned into her friend’s shoulder, trying to keep her breathing even.

“You are having twins, no?” the midwife asked, lips forming a little bow on the  _ no? _  She was so perky and polite, Aurelia wanted to kick her.  Where was the old, grandmotherly midwife who cackled and told dirty jokes and had seen hundreds of births?  She wanted  _ that _ midwife, the midwife that was  _ at home _ .  Not some skinny Orlesian girl who had probably never even been on the fun end of how babies were made.

“Yes, she is having twins,” Cassandra said for her, for which Aurelia was grateful.  She didn’t actually want to kick the girl. Did she? It didn’t matter, because another contraction hit and Cullen wasn’t here, and she was angry and scared, and damn it, why had he drunk anything at all?

“Breathe, Aurelia.”  Cassandra’s accented voice was low and strong in her ear, the voice she had first heard in a dungeon cell, but also the first voice she had heard coming over the mountain after Haven, the voice of faith and an unexpected friendship.  Aurelia’s right hand flailed, and Cassandra caught it easily in her own. Cassandra’s grip was solid and sure, and Aurelia clung to it. Her puffed out cheeks deflated as she exhaled heavily, and she tried not to clench her jaw against the pain.

Between Cassandra’s steadfast presence and the apparently competent work of the skinny midwife, Aurelia was able to focus on her breathing and keep up steady pushes.  This was going much faster than with Sabine, for which she was grateful. Then she saw Kjarval with Cullen’s arm slung over his shoulder and Sabine still clinging to him like the monkeys Bull had told her about.  Cullen slid bonelessly to the marble floor not five feet away, hitting the ground with a hard thud, and Kjarval started, as if he had not expected that to happen.

“Boo!” Sabine cried, pointing at her father and then giggling as if it was all a game.  Frantic that he’d been hurt, Aurelia tried to reach her husband, but Cassandra held her back.

Cullen groaned a moment later, shifting on the floor and sitting up with his head in his hands.  Kjarval knelt beside him and passed a drinking skin to Cullen. Cullen took it reflexively and took a long pull before handing it back to Kjarval who drained it only to withdraw  _ another _ drinking skin from his jerkin.

“What is in that?” Cassandra asked acidly.  Kjarval glanced down at the drinking skin in his hand and frowned as if he wasn’t sure how to best answer that.

“Mead.”  Kjarval raised his head, a massive grin on his face.  “How else does a man celebrate the arrival of his children!?”

“To my wife!  I love her so much!” Cullen crowed, snatching up the secondary skin of mead and taking another long pull.  Cassandra goggled at both men, and then narrowed her eyes in flinty anger at Kjarval.

“I said to get him something to help!” Cassandra barked.

“This is helping!  It’s traditional! And otherwise it’s a very nervous business for a man, he needs to keep his spirits up.”

“It’s stressful?” Aurelia growled.  “For the  _ man _ ?”

“You were supposed to get him water!” Cassandra shouted.

“How is water helpful?” Kjarval asked, bewildered.  Before Aurelia could get up another head of steam and lay into the man, she felt the need to push.  It was all through her lower body, and it made her shoulders go rigid. 

“First one is on the way, yes?”  The midwife’s chipper demeanor was now definitely worth a kick.  But later, and Aurelia focused on pushing.

“Cassandra, I’m going to kill him,” Aurelia grit out as she squeezed her friend’s hand for all it was worth.

“Which one?”

“ _ Both _ .”

“Hm, I think I will help you,” Cassandra said evenly.  Aurelia took heart from Cassandra’s support, the literal and figurative, and shut everything else out of her mind.  Her children needed her now. They needed her to be strong for them, to not get caught up in her anger at how this was another moment in her life gone sideways.  It didn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter, only her children did. Two little souls about to enter the world, and they needed their mother. She would not let them find her wanting.

“Now is the time to push, yes?”

Aurelia screamed, curling forward, pushing with all her might, Cassandra bracing her easily.  At her back, at her side, her friend. Her friend through blood, sweat and tears, and now one last fight together.

“You can do this, my friend, you can.”  Over and over, Aurelia made herself match Cassandra’s breathing.

“The first one is coming!” the midwife said excitedly, for once not turning her words into a question.  Aurelia strained, pushing, and then she felt it. Felt the little form leave her body, and she heard its high, wailing cry.  “A boy!” 

Tears streamed down Aurelia’s.  The world was one large blur for her, and she didn’t know what was happening to her son— _ her son _ —because she had another baby to deliver.  Panting, puffing, Aurelia’s chest heaved, and her legs trembled.

“Cass, Cass, help,” she blubbered.  Cassandra’s arm around her shoulders tightened, and she didn’t even wince as Aurelia clamped down on her hand with all might.

“You don’t need me, you are strong enough.  You always were.” Faith tested and found true, an iron will, the ability to take a hit and  _ get back up _ , someone to rely on.  Aurelia opened her eyes and  _ pushed _ .  With one last tearing scream, Aurelia gave her all and then she heard the second cry, and she collapsed into a heap.

“Another boy!” the midwife declared.  Aurelia dimly was aware that her  _ sons _ were being cleaned and swaddled, made ready for her to hold.  Oh how she wanted to see their perfect little faces. See which one had freckles, which had her eyes, which one might take after Cullen.  Two little boys, to grow up with their sister, all three children free and happy and together. A family.

“TWIN BOYS!  WELL DONE!” Kjarval boomed.  The Avvar had dragged Cullen over to inspect the babies, and her husband blinked owlishly down at his sons.  Tears of his own wet his face, and for a moment Aurelia’s heart beat with tender joy to see her husband meeting their sons for the first time.  Then he slowly slid onto the floor, pressing his face into the cool marble and gazing up at the babies with drunken wonder.

“I love all of you,” he rambled between hiccupping sniffles.  “I love my babies, and I love my wife, and Kjarval, I don't know you well, but I love you too, and I love you too Cass for getting me out of Kirkwall—”

“ _ Ugh _ .”  Cassandra’s lip curled with clear disgust, but Aurelia thought she saw a single tear trace down the other woman’s cheek.  Still, Cassandra made peremptory motions at the midwife. The poor girl, clearly at a loss at how to handle the complete failure of decorum, turned to the highest authority present.  Cassandra pointedly looked at the babies and then indicated that they should be with their mother.

Wasting no time, the midwife shifted both babies onto Aurelia’s lap, and Aurelia’s anger melted like snow under the high spring sun.  She winced as she felt the afterbirth cramps, but with Cullen drunk she didn’t care about him being here. He’d likely forget it, and she sincerely hoped it forced Kjarval  _ away _ .

He did not leave, but she focus on the two new little loves in her life, with their little perfect mouths and tiny hands with their little delicate finger nails.  They were smaller than Sabine had been, which had to be expected. Twins were always a bit smaller, she’d been given to understand, and would soon gain weight if she was careful.  Aurelia shifted their swaddling blankets and traced one finger along their features. One of them clearly had the Trevelyan nose, while the other had a version of Cullen’s chin, all soft and covered in baby fat, but there.  Or so she thought.

Kjarval approached appearing somewhat calmer, Cullen dragged along behind him, and he deposited Sabine next to Aurelia so her daughter could see her little brothers.  Sabine’s dark blue eyes were wide and she looked from her mother to her brothers as if she had just discovered something magical.

In a way, Aurelia supposed she had.

It was a soft moment, in spite of everything going not as intended, and Aurelia smiled.  Cassandra leaned over and delicately touched a fingertip to each boy’s nose as well, and Aurelia was glad to see her friend finally somewhat at ease around babies.  Kjarval chuckled, and caught up in the rush and madness of everything, Aurelia laughed too.

Then Kjarval spoke.

“Twin sons!  Your seed is strong, my friend!”  The Avvar shook Cullen, to cajole him into mere alert behavior.  Cullen only laughed, that weird, awkward laugh he had whenever he drank, which made Aurelia doubly grateful that he did so only rarely.  She was about to reply when Cassandra once again proved that she was one of the best friends Aurelia could have ever asked for.

“Please do not ever say anything about anyone's seed.   _ Ever.  Again _ ,” Cassandra told him flatly, and thank Andraste, Kjarval finally shut up.

 

* * *

Cullen opened his eyes slowly.  In part because everything  _ hurt _ , and in part because his eyes felt sticky.  He thought he could  _ hear _ his eyes opening, which he was fairly certain was not a good sign.  His mouth felt like something had crawled into it and died, and he was starting to wonder why he was face down on a couch.

Then memory supplied the answer, and he screwed his eyes up tight.  He  _ knew _ why he was face down on a couch, and he suddenly wished he was dead.  Or in a cell. Or anywhere but—

“Good morning, husband of mine.”  Aurelia’s voice dripped with false honey, and Cullen froze, as if that would help him somehow.  He was, at this moment, well and truly beyond help. Knowing he would have to face his judge, jury and executioner sooner rather than later, he pushed himself off the soft, velvet fabric of the couch and tried to straighten his tunic.  The same one he had been in yesterday.

Finally, he managed to open his eyes only to wince at the bright light of day that streamed in through the large glass windows, the breezy, pale blue curtains drawn fully back.  Aurelia was ensconced on a large bed under a downy quilt. Sabine was nowhere to be seen, but if Aurelia was not concerned, then that meant someone else was looking after her at the moment.  Then Cullen noticed the two swaddled bundles on his wife’s lap, Aurelia’s forefinger idly held in one tiny little hand.

Oh  _ Maker _ .

“Aurelia, I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, voice breaking.  What had he  _ done _ ?  His wife’s blue eyes fell on him like arrows, a dangerous arc of purple lightning flickering in them.

“You were drunk.”  Her words bit like razor-sharp teeth, and the temperature of the room seemed to drop slightly. 

“Yes, yes I was, and I have no excuse.  I should have never had a single drink, and it went to my head, and no, no that’s an excuse.  Aurelia, I love you, and I love our family, and I would never want to—”

“Oh, just.  Damn it. Come here and meet your sons properly.”  Aurelia broke into his verbal attempt to prostrate himself at her feet, her voice laced with fond exasperation.  He had been about to see if actual prostration would work when she’d pulled him up short.  _ Sons _ .  He could remember that part clearly.  He had sons.

With a shuddering breath, he eased himself onto the bed, peering down at the two small bundles his wife held.  They were swaddled in white cotton blankets, and their little faces stared back up him. He thought one of them took after him a little more, something about the chin perhaps, and he wondered what they would be when they were grown.  Good men, he hoped. Better than him.

“They’re beautiful,” he whispered.  As if testing the waters, he wrapped one arm around his wife, and she leaned against him.  All was not perhaps forgiven, but while Aurelia was quick to anger, she did not hold grudges.  Just the one, and that was neither here nor there at the moment. Carefully, he got an arm underneath one of them and held the baby to his chest.  He pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, and breathed in that unmistakable baby scent of him. “They’re perfect.”

“They are, aren’t they?”  Aurelia’s voice thrummed with maternal pride, and she held their other son close now that she didn’t have her lap occupied by both boys.  “You’re holding Tobias. I’ve got Martyn.”

He gazed at his sons, back and forth, unable to take his eyes off of them, and then his ear caught the unmistakable sound of his wife singing.  Her rich voice was threaded with gentle love, a warm blanket in and of itself to tuck around sleepy children. She did not need two hands to sooth away tears or play tickle-games, or even put the children to bed.  All she had ever needed was her love and her voice, and she had both in spades. How lucky where these children, to have her for a mother?

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her brow.

“And I you,” she replied, watching him from underneath her blonde brows.  Then a smirk twisted her lips. “In  _ spite _ of your performance yesterday.  Though I assure you, it will get a good laugh when I tell Varric.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”  They stared each other down for a moment, and Cullen had the cold certainty that there was no way he was going to get out of this story being told.  Repeatedly. Maybe, however, he could try to mitigate the damage. He was just about to try abject begging when the door slammed open.

“Cullen!  I heard you might not be well, so I brought more mead!  It will help!” Kjarval shouted, holding up another drinking skin.  Cullen winced at the series of bangs and yelling, and the babies started to cry at the disturbance.  Then, without so much as a word, Cullen felt a pressure wave pass him by, and the drinking skin was propelled out into the hallway to slam against the far wall, taking Kjarval with it.  And the door. And some of the doorway, the wood turned to splinters by the force of Aurelia’s mind blast.

The twins quieted instantly, more of Aurelia’s wisps appearing to soothe the babies.  He thought they might just appear by reflex at this point. As uncomfortable as he had been at first about spirits around the babies, he had to admit that they were rather handy in a pinch.

“ _ Him _ , on the other hand.  I trust Cassandra will see to him,” Aurelia growled.  Then, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, she cooed at Martyn and Tobias, praising them both for being good boys while mommy had been upset.

Cullen decided now was not the best time to mention that in all the commotion, their ship had departed without them but with all their things.


	4. In Which the Best of Intentions are not Enough to Forestall Chaos

 

Cullen glared at That Bastard, one of the four goats Kjarval had used as a means of apology after getting Cullen roaring drunk when the twins had been born.  The goat returned his look with that opaque _goat_ stare, mildly chewing a mouthful of hay as if it had not just tried to knock him down.  No one believed him that this goat in particular was, in fact, evil.  Possibly demon possessed.  He’d heard of a demon possessed goat before.  Or was it a sheep?  A cow?

 

That didn’t matter.  What _did_ matter was that the creature acted mild as milk around everyone else, the children especially, but had taken a special dislike to Cullen for reasons known only to the Maker and the goat in question.

 

“We are not done, you and I.  _Goat_ ,” he threatened in a low voice.  Then he hauled himself up and over the fence of the goat pen, not wanting to give the vile creature a chance to escape.  The other three goats weren’t nearly this much trouble, thankfully.  Scraping the hay and muck off his work boots on the grass, Cullen headed back to the house in the cool, early autumn morning. 

 

He had been up at the dawn, that habit impossible to break after all his years as a Templar then later as the Inquisition’s commander.  It afforded him a few rare moments of quiet before the rest of the compound stirred to wakefulness, and he often tried to get a few chores done that were left over from the previous day.  It had just been his luck that the goat pen had needed a bit of mending.  From inside the pen.  Suppressing a sigh, Cullen trotted up the wooden stairs to the porch and sat down on the bench there to remove his work boots. 

 

The years since he and Aurelia had started this project had been more eventful than he could have imagined.  They hosted eight ex-Templars at present, a secondary wing of the house added for their use.  The numbers fluctuated as people came and went.  They arrived hollowed out shells of people, their bodies craving lyrium and devouring them from the inside out, but slowly, slowly, they nursed the poor souls through the first stages.  Surviving that, they had a much larger task ahead of them, to build themselves back up, to crawl out of the hole they had been stuffed into by years of lyirum use.  And, Maker willing, some were able to leave, to find their feet again and make a life for themselves in the wider world.  A few would never leave them, while others chose not to.  Ella and Handric had been with them from the first, and seemed content to stay.

 

The mages that had been Tranquil posed a different sort of challenge.  They had three such mages with them now, and had only seen one other safely away to the College of Enchanters.  It was a deadly, tricky business, and Cullen prayed daily that they would never face the day where they lost one of their charges.  He had seen enough death to last several lifetimes.  Instead, he was part of something that helped shattered minds become whole, piece by piece, part of something he was proud of.

 

Then, of course, there was the farm’s—or more accurately Aurelia’s—ever growing menagerie.  They had three dogs, including Duke, perhaps twenty cats that roamed the property, the four Avvar goats, a stable full of horses, a pen of rabbits that was threatening to overflow soon, and one small tortoise that seemed to be an escape artist of the highest order.  The hows and whys of the tortoise’s presence were still unclear to him, but Sabine had a complete meltdown when she couldn’t find it.  Thus, it had to become a permanent resident of the farm.

 

Muddy boots stowed away and in a sturdy pair of shoes, Cullen slipped through the door to the house.  The window blinds had been opened already, the small staff they maintained already bustling about their morning chores.  While he had initially resisted the idea of having staff—he originally had held to the notion that they should be able to maintain their own household—both he and Aurelia were far too busy with their charges to maintain the house on a day to day basis.  As it was, having staff worked well, and it also meant they had more time for their children.  Sabine was certainly a handful, and the twins were not far behind.  Martyn was an inquisitive lad, forever trying to get into places he shouldn’t just to see what things were, while Tobias would often wander off as best he could on unsteady two-year-old legs to chase down a frog or butterfly that had caught his attention.  Like the tortoise, Cullen wondered how a creature with such short, stocky legs could put on such a turn of speed at will.

 

Passing by the sitting room and study, he rounded the corner of the hallway and paused at the dining room door.  The house they had built was not some grand manor, but he had insisted that they have a place where they could eat together as a family.  He stood a moment, letting the sounds of the early morning chaos of his family reach his ears.  It made a smile curve his lips to hear the excited chatter of the children, the clatter of cutlery and flatware, the tittering of the maids over someone’s messy face, and wending through it all the rich, golden voice of his wife, the woman at the center of the whirlwind that was his life.

 

Maker, but he would not trade this for anything.

 

Nudging the door open, Cullen stepped into the dining room, the usual flurry of activity on display.  Sabine had managed to stay clean, for a wonder, while she ate her porridge with a spoon instead of her bare hands with all the determination of a solider on the front lines.  Tobias played with his cut-up pieces of apple, arranging them according to some design, though Cullen could not say what, while Martyn tried to wiggle out of Aurelia’s hold as one of the young maids, Prudence he thought, tried to clean off his messy face. 

 

Unfortunately, someone else had the parity of Aurelia’s attention.

 

“Samson, I don’t care if you think it’s a risk.  We’re curing another Tranquil next week, and I expect that we’ll be ready for it.”  Aurelia’s voice brooked no argument, and her blue eyes pinned Samson to the spot.  The surly man obviously bit back a retort, but he frowned pointedly at her rounded belly, Aurelia once more heavily pregnant.  Cullen still didn’t care much for the man, personally, but Samson was not an idiot when it came to the safety of mages.  For Aurelia to attempt to restore one of the Tranquil in her current condition was not advisable.

 

“Aurelia and I have agreed that we’re bringing in a specialist for this one, Samson,” Cullen said, breaking into to tension.  “He will arrive with our newest charge, along with his… partner.”  He hedged around exactly _who_ was arriving.  The names of Rhys and Evangeline were not well known, but he did not want the pair in any more danger than they already were.  Rhys had been the one to help Aurelia herself, years ago, and he doubted there was anyone else better at reversing the Rite.

 

Samson glared at him from beneath furrowed brows.  They had their history, but Samson seemed determined to make the most of this last chance at a life.  He was still surly and contrary, but he did the work that was asked of him.  At least they could speak civilly to one another now. 

 

“Hrmph, good.  At least _you_ can talk some sense into her,” Samson grumbled.  Then proving that though he might have lost his way, he was not stupid, and beat a hasty retreat before Aurelia could appropriately direct her anger over _that_ statement.

 

“What?  He!  You!  Get back here!” she shouted after him, her voice a clarion call ringing through the house as Samson slunk out the door to the kitchen.  Cullen quickly stepped into the fray, lifting Martyn out of Aurelia’s hold and tucking his son securely against his chest, his face thankfully clean. 

 

“Uncle Sammy gumpy, Daddy,” Martyn said, and Cullen could not suppress the laugh at that accurate assessment of one Raleigh Samson. 

 

“He usually is, darling,” Cullen mused.  Aurelia grumbled under her breath for a few more moments and then sighted, glancing up at him.

 

“Thank you, for handling that.  I probably would have yelled at him.”  The admission came with a dismissive wave of her hand and ignoring the fact that she _had_ yelled at him.  With the irritation out of mind, she absently stroked Martyn’s fine, light blonde hair.  He had the palest hair of the children.  It had been nearly white when he had been born and had barely darkened in the past two years and some months, and neither had his pale blue eyes.

 

“In general, I would not have objected to seeing you defend your competence, but it is still early yet, love,” Cullen murmured as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth.  She hummed in appreciation, and then let out a little _oof_ of surprise.  Her lips curved in a smile, her hand going to her belly.  Cullen could not help but place his free hand next to hers to feel their child kick, and it warmed his heart anew to know of that small life that grew within. 

 

This time they were taking no chances.  They would stay home, one of the local midwives was housed in guest quarters, and there was no mead within a good mile of the house.  


“Daddy!  I wanna kiss too!” Sabine demanded, as ever a girl to shatter moments now that she could walk and talk.  There was no getting around Sabine believing she ruled the house with a tiny, chubby iron fist.

 

“I don’t know, Sabine,” Aurelia drawled, picking up a napkin on her way to their daughter’s booster chair.  She cleaned off the porridge that had failed to make to their daughter’s mouth.  “What do we say?”  Sabine frowned, her cheeks puffing out in a proto-tantrum.  Tobias shifted and made some small sounds, and Cullen and Aurelia both turned to their son, waiting for him to speak.

 

“Please!” Martyn crowed, once again speaking for his brother.  That had been the state of things since the twins had been old enough to babble, Martyn speaking up while Tobias only seemed to want to talk to his brother.  Cullen wished Tobias would speak up for himself, but according to the midwife this was common with twins.  “We say please, Mommy.”

 

“Yes, we do, Martyn, and thank you Tobias for helping him with that.”  Aurelia praised both their sons in an attempt to encourage Tobais to speak on his own.  Martyn preened for his correct answer, and Tobias beamed at everyone, his good nature shining out of his hazel-green eyes even if he didn’t speak yet.

 

Then the day began in earnest.  Cullen kissed each of his children good morning, ensured that _some_ food made it into them instead of on them, and then got to work.  The former Templars were good with routine, up and caring for the animals and going about the work of the farm.  It was not a _labor_ farm as such, but those who became Templars were never good at remaining idle.  And it kept the farm from having to purchase all its supplies from elsewhere.  The small group of mages often kept to themselves, but Talen was usually able to cajole his fellows into assisting with the animals.  Typically, they were more comfortable around cats, likely because cats were kept in most Circles to keep down the rats and mice.  They were familiar animals and non-threatening, but they had taken a liking to the calmer draft horses.  Then after morning chores they would practice their spells under Aurelia’s watchful eye to re-learn how to handle mana without losing themselves to the Fade.  Or demons.  He was not terribly worried about his wife’s safety.  At least not anymore.  Even pregnant, she was not a mage to be trifled with, and he firmly believed any demon would rather return to the Fade rather than face her ire.

 

That might have even happened once, if Talen was to be believed.

 

Aside from overseeing the day to day, it was down to himself and Aurelia to simply be present.  To help, to listen, to encourage, to point the way through a dark moment, or stop a fall away from reality.  Very often he was not sure how much he helped, relying more on a steady hand on a shoulder and understanding silence more often than not, but eventually the troubled eyes would close and tension would bleed from a back that had carried too many burdens.  Aurelia was better at getting them to all talk than he was, to unburden their hearts and minds, but together they were doing something _worthy_.

 

The day ambled on, but the peace of the crisp autumn afternoon was broken by the thunder of hooves on the lane that led to the house. 

 

In moments, the farm changed.  Cullen and the other Templars had swords in hand, and the mages took up distant positions, wild eyes training on the interloper.  Though after Sabine’s birth banditry had taken a sharp decline in the area, that did not mean some mad fool would not try to attack what seemed to be a modest farm without any defenses.  Or that an aggrieved Templar or mage would not come looking for revenge.  He stood shoulder to shoulder with Samson, and they stared down the wild rider.

 

Then Cullen recognized the horse.

 

“Hold!” he cried, holding up a fist to signal all to stand down.  “A rider from Mia’s farm!”  A collective sigh of relief rippled out over the fields, and then Aurelia was there, appearing for all the world as if nothing dire had almost happened.

 

“Darin, you’ve worked this poor thing to a later,” she admonished.  The young farmhand slid out of the saddle, and Aurelia caught him easily.  Taking in gulping breaths, the boy didn’t waste his time on apologies, to Aurelia or the horse.  Instead he turned to Cullen.

 

“It’s Miss Rosie, ser!  It’s her time, and Mistress Mia says she needs help.  Says she needed you, ser, awful sorry, ser,” Darin rambled.  Cullen’s heart froze.  Rosie, her husband still away at sea on his merchantman voyage, had been staying with Mia and Landon at their home.  He tried not to be angry with his brother-in-law for marrying Rosie and then scarpering off to make his fortune, only to leave his wife alone and _pregnant_.  Cullen wanted to go, he had to go.  But, he was not without responsibilities here.

 

“You had better get going, then,” Aurelia said.  He turned to his wife, the woman who held his heart, and only saw her smiling.

 

“But what about you?  What if,” he stammered.  She merely held up one finger, stopping his voice without a word.

 

“You will be but an hour’s fast ride away, and Talen can make that distance in much less time.”  Her voice was cool and reasonable, and Cullen wanted to trust it.  But he had learned to question closely when she _appeared_ calm.

 

“Are you _sure_?”  Taking her hand in his, he held it to his chest, no longer caring quite so much who saw them close like this.  Having been with Aurelia this long, he had slowly become inured to casual displays of affection.  So long as they were appropriate.

 

“Cullen,” she said sternly, a flicker of the lightning in her blue eyes.  “ _Go_.”

 

He knew an order when he heard one.  Pressing a quick kiss to her fingers, he said in a voice for her ears alone, “As my Lady commands.”

 

“Away with you, ser knight!”  With a flick of her hand, she waved him away, though a smile graced her face.   Then he dashed to the barn and saddled Theodoric, the massive black charger Aurelia had selected for him just before they had gone to the Winter Palace.  _My Commander needs a noble steed, otherwise, how will they take any of us seriously?_   He was fairly certain that had been true, in its way, but thinking back, he could recall the sly curve of her lips and the nervous-yet-hopeful light in her eyes.  Though he had no time for such ruminations now.  His little sister needed him, and by the Maker, he would not disappoint her.

 

* * *

 

Aurelia sighed, the fingers of her right hand tracing lightly over the curve of her belly and picking at the warm, red wool of her dress.  Cullen had been gone since the afternoon, out to help Mia with Rosie’s labor.  Her first, and the poor thing with her husband still at sea.  At least she had been able to stay with Mia, but it also meant that Aurelia was currently bereft of _her_ husband.

 

She did not like it.  Not in the least. 

 

“Breathe, Auri,” she muttered to herself and exhaled slowly, trying to keep her own irritation at bay.  There was no cause for it, not really, and she could manage a little decorum.  The afternoon had meandered on, the former Templars continuing to lose themselves in the work of the farm, with one or two on hand to help the recovered mages stay calm during their magical re-training.  Though lyrium was banned from the property, those who had once been Templars still had a deep quiet to them, and that quiet could help steady mages who had been reconnected to the Fade. 

 

It was like how Cullen was quiet, a deep well of calm in the landscape of her mind.  Maker, but she missed him, and he had barely been gone any time at all!  It didn’t feel right, him not being nearby.  How quickly she had become used to having him at her side.  At her left, her dear Commander with his ready shield, her devoted husband giving her his two hands for the lack of her one. 

 

But there was work to be done, and she had to see to it.  Thankfully, the day remained relatively calm, and at dinner she only had to contend with Sabine refusing to let go of her tortoise, an overtired and fussy Tobias, and Martyn inspecting every morsel of food before eating it.  All in all, a normal dinner.  Then it was time for bed.  Normally, she and Cullen would carry the children to bed, tuck them in, and sing a little something to help them to sleep.  Without him here, however, she had to rely on help from Prudence and Talen to wrangle the children.  Finally, they were all in their little beds with their little stuffies, each one a gift from Krem, soft blankets tucked up securely around them. 

 

Aurelia sang to her children, longer than usual in deference to their father not being present.  Slowly but surely, their eyes drifted shut, unable to resist the pull of sleep, and she lingered to watch their small chests rise and fall in the steady rhythm of untroubled sleep.  A more beautiful sight Aurelia had never seen, and she looked forward to the day when she could settle another baby into the cradle that stood ready.  She had what few mages could have ever dreamed of years ago.  Her children with her, to grow up as a family and not given to the Chantry to be raised and watched for any sign of magical ability, like waiting for a curse to manifest.  Her dearest hearts, hers to love and shelter and protect and teach and to watch them grow.  Tearing herself away from the sight, Aurelia exited the nursey on quiet feet, letting the door close with a soft click. 

 

Then she made a final round of the house.  Usually Cullen did that, checking all the doors and windows, and she felt a compulsion to do the same without him here.  Then a soft yellow light caught her eye, and she saw lamplight glowing in one of the front windows.  Since a burglar was very unlikely to use a lamp, Aurelia didn’t bother to hide herself as she moved to investigate.  It could be one of the mages up late and seeking quiet, or one of the former Templars who could not sleep for all they could not let go of.  Either way, it could be someone who needed a compassionate ear. 

 

The figure sat on the porch steps, leaning back on his arms, and she opened the door.  The man turned, and Aurelia saw the last person she expected to be sitting there.

 

“You’re up late, Samson,” she said dryly.  Rather than sit next to him she stood at the porch railing, letting her fingers trace the grain of the wood.  Although Samson was part of this farm and the project she and Cullen had begun, he was not someone who poured his heart out.  Nor did he appreciate any attempt to make him do so.  He grunted and turned his gaze back to the lane that led up to the house.

 

“Just watching the stars, Trevelyan.”  His voice was a low, surly grumble, as per usual, and she had long ago stopped pointing out that she was not _Trevelyan_ anymore.  The night was cool, making her skin prickle, and she conjured a trickle of fire to ward off the chill.  Aurelia let the silence stretch out, having learned that the best way to get Samson to say anything was to either intentionally anger him or to say absolutely nothing and make him fill the void of silence.  Then he coughed and shifted his shoulders, as if uncomfortable.  “And watching for Rutherford.  Figure if he comes back late, he’ll need some help with that bloody war horse of his.”

 

“Theodoric is a sweetheart, I’ll have you know.  He is most excellent horse with a fine temperament.”  Aurelia’s tone was arch, and she grinned sharply when Samson shot her a frustrated glare. 

 

“What?  You mean better than mine?” he bit out.

 

“I’ve met varghests with better temperaments than you, but I do appreciate that you’re watching for Cullen, so thank you.”  She kept her tone light, taking the sting out of her words.  He merely grunted again and turned away from her, and she let her gaze track out over the fields, stalks of wheat bending gently in the autumn night breeze under the stars that winked in the black sky.   Not for the first time, Aurelia thought that Samson coated himself in a foul mood like some plants did prickly needles.  An attempt to keep everything and everyone away, to prevent himself from being hurt.  It made her have more patience with the man than she might have otherwise.  However, she could not resist a parting shot, and she paused at the door, her hand on the latch, and said, “Truly, thank you.  And try not to stay up too late.  Raleigh.” 

 

Quickly, before he could reply, she was through the door and it shut behind her, blocking out his grumbling.  If anything, that was suitable payback for this morning. 

 

The house secure, Aurelia finally retreated to her bedroom, lighting the lamp with a flicker of will.  With a sigh, she set about undoing her dress.  It was not easy one handed, but she had learned how to do as much as she could for herself, and she was glad that her dress had buttons down the front and easy to reach ties.  Rather than wear her usual nightgown, however, she pulled on one of Cullen’s linen shirts.  It was white and crisp and clean, and she swam in it, but it was soft and comforting, like he was here to hold her close himself.  She tidied her braid for the night, and then crawled into bed, arranging the pillows around her so they formed a nest.  That was preferable to the empty space beside her.  At a flick of her fingers, the lamp extinguished, and darkness settled over her.  The starlight that filtered in through the curtains over the windows only let her see the outline of the room.

 

“Hurry home, my dear knight,” she whispered into the night.  Then she felt another flutter and kick, and she held her hand over her belly as she smiled.  “Your little one misses you.”

 

* * *

 

“Well done, Rosie,” Cullen said, one arm around his sister’s shoulders, supporting her weight.  The baby cried, a high, piercing wail, and tears streamed down Rosie’s face.  Mia and the midwife cleaned up the child, but Cullen stayed put, letting Rosie cling to him.  “You did it.”

 

It had been a long labor.  Longer than Aurelia’s with Sabine, and dawn had broken only moments ago.  They had been up all night, keeping Rosie going while the rest of the household tried to sleep.  His little sister was exhausted but exultant.

 

“Glad you were here, Cul,” she said quietly.  “Though I can’t speak for the midwife.”  They snickered at that, the midwife having tried to throw Cullen out of the room stating it was _women’s business_ and he was not welcome.  He pointed out that he had been with his wife for both of her previous labors—leaving out the detail he had been drunk for the second—and that Rosie had asked for him.  She had muttered about this horrifying change, men in the birthing room, _supporting_ the women folk.   Apparently, that was for womenfolk to do themselves.

 

“Glad I could be here,” he replied, voice just as quiet.  Then Mia returned, a swaddled bundle in her arms, a little pink face all scrunched up and bewildered poking out of the white blankets.

 

“You ready Rosie?” Mia asked, rocking the baby gently.  Rosie sat up, Cullen helping her shift, and she held her arms out.  Mia gently laid the baby in Rosie’s arms, and Rosie held her child close, another round of tears welling in her eyes.  Cullen’s own vision swam and he didn’t try to hide it. 

 

“Hello, you.”  Rosie’s voice was soft, thick with tears, and she traced the features of the baby.  Cullen knew what she was doing, looking for what was her, what was her husband; it was what he and Aurelia had done at with each new addition to their family, marveling at how they had created something new together.  Snuffling a little, Rosie glanced up at Mia, a question in her eyes.  “You didn’t say, Mia.  Boy or girl?”

 

“You have a daughter, Rosie, and a strong thing she is, too.”  Mia leaned over, cooing at the newest member of the extended Rutherford family, a proud auntie to her fingertips.  Rosie’s face, however, fell.

 

“A daughter?  Oh.  Rodney, he.  He was hoping for a son, and I’d hoped—he won’t be disappointed, will he?” she asked, a quaver in her voice, and Cullen made a mental to note to have a _talk_ with Rodney.  Perhaps Branson and Landon could come along.  Or better yet, he could unleash Aurelia on the man and stand back and watch her go to work.  Though, that might be going slightly too far.  Aurelia in full voice would likely obliterate the man where he stood. 

 

Mia, ever ready to look after all her younger siblings, no matter the fact they were all adults now, merely shook her head.

 

“He won’t be disappointed in the slightest,” Mia told their sister.  She sat down on the other side of Rosie, a comforting arm about her shoulders.

 

“Believe me, when he gets home and sees this face, he will fall in love,” Cullen said, recalling how he had felt when he’d held Sabine for the first time.   She had captured his heart without even trying, as had Martyn and Tobias.  Nothing else in the world mattered but his children in that moment, to hold them close and feel that weight in his arms, to know beyond any doubt that he would love and protect them for so long as he had breath in his body.

 

Rosie nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks as she held her daughter close. 

 

“Thank you, Mia, Cul,” Rosie said thickly.

 

“You are more than welcome, Rosie.”   He was grateful that Aurelia had agreed that South Reach was the best place for their project.  Being able to be there for his little sister, getting to watch his nieces and nephews grow up, all the cousins playing together in a roving pack of exuberant children; it was a gift, all of it.  However, he did have a pregnant wife of his own to return to, and he gave Rosie one last hug before standing.

 

As if sensing his intention to leave straight away, before he could even say goodbye Mia gave him a level look and her voice brooked no argument.  “Cullen, you’re getting some food and rest before you leave.”

 

“I don’t suppose I have a choice in this, do I?” he asked with a sigh.  He ran a hand over his face, fingers catching on the stubble, and his tiredness catching up to him as soon as Mia ordered him to rest.

 

“No, but you should be used to that, seeing as who you married,” Mia teased, and Cullen wanted to refute the point.  Alas, he could not, and he decided a tactical retreat was his best option.

 

* * *

 

“You’re doing very well, Jeari, very well at staying calm for her.”  Aurelia put as much encouragement as possible into her voice, and a wan smile flickered over the elven woman’s face though her dark eyes remained trained on the subject of the current fuss.  Svetta the goat bleeted, but leaned her fuzzy head into Jeari’s hand, seeking the comfort of the spirits Jeari could summon.  She had been a spirit medium, branded for _consorting with demons_ , only for later testimony to confirm that had _not_ been the case.  Slowly, they had been building up Jeari’s confidence with spirits, to keep calm when she summoned them so they would not go wild when they touched her mind.  Aurelia had been considering tracking down Cole to help the woman, but it seemed helping a goat give birth was an excellent trial run.

 

It was just after dawn, Ella having alerted the entire household to the situation, and that was how although Jeari, Aurelia and Handric were in the pen with the goat, everyone else was clustered around in breathless anticipation of seeing the kids.   

 

Well, the _adults_ were breathless.  The children were _loud_.

 

“Baby goat!  Baby goat!  Baby goat!” was Sabine’s constant, full voiced refrain.  Martyn had different priorities.  “Mommy, Mommy, how the baby get in there?  Why’s it coming out?  Mommy, is it the same as Mommy’s baby?”

 

She was going to find out who thought bringing the children here was a good idea and give them a piece of her mind.  She loved her children desperately, and in theory it was perfectly reasonable to have them learn all about this sort of thing.  Just not _right now_ , when Jaeri’s hands trembled, when Svetta’s bleets were getting more insistent, and Aurelia was herself heavily pregnant and quickly reaching the end of her temper.  Being calm _for_ another person was not exactly her forte.  If Cullen were here, he’d been the one helping Jeari maintain her focus.  But that was not the case, and Aurelia did her best to ignore everything save helping the mage who needed _someone_ to a steady presence next to her. 

 

Steady.  Aurelia could manage steady for a few more moments.

 

“Lady Aurelia?” Jaeri whispered, a quaver in her voice.  “I think I’m losing control.”  The spirits winked out and Svetta threw her head and lashed out with her back legs at Handric.  The former Templar fell backwards, his arm raised to shield his face, and those hard hooves hit with a terrible crack.  Aurelia pulled on the Fade at speed, casting a barrier around Handric.  Another mage, Gallen, hopped the fence and started to work healing magic on the injured man.

 

“Tobias!”

 

Aurelia whipped around to see her son toddling into the pen, Prudence reaching after him uselessly between slats of the fence.  He must have squeezed through a gap somewhere.  On instinct, Aurelia dove for him, wrapping him up in her arms.  Magic flooded her in an instant, another barrier blooming into life around her and her son, a coruscating blue humming just above their skin.  Then lighting flickered and cracked into life, the air suddenly smelling of rain.

 

“You’ve got him, Trevelyan.  He’s safe.”  Samson’s rough voice broke through, and she blinked to clear her vision.  He knelt in front of her unafraid, and Aurelia let out a slow breath though she didn’t let go of her son.

 

“Yes, he is,” she bit the words, sharp and pointed.  Prudence’s face fell, and Aurelia promptly felt like an ass.  However, now was not the time to take the woman to task, and there was still the small matter of a pregnant and irate goat to deal with.  “Kaden, get in here, help Jaeri with Svetta.  Ella, come get Tobais.”

 

At her orders, the former Templars leapt to, Kaden talking Jaeri through her panic, and Ella easily lifting Tobias out of Aurelia’s arms.  She tried to get her legs under her to stand, to get the day back to normal, but she couldn’t quite manage it.  Straining, she tried again, but there was an uncomfortable tightness about her middle.  Maybe she had done up her dress too securely that morning.  Samson saw her struggle and held out his hand, and she decided to take what help was offered at this point.  He hauled her up, and she staggered a moment, feeling lightheaded.  She must have overdone it a bit, drawing too much magic into herself at that speed.  She wasn’t used to it anymore.

 

“I’m sure Prudence feels right awful about this, Lady Aurelia,” Ella said in a low voice.  The woman held Tobias securely in strong arms that had once held sword and shield and was now perfectly at ease holding a boy instead of weaponry.  Samson grunted darkly at the statement, and for once Aurelia found herself in complete agreement with the man.

 

“I’m sure she does.  However.”  Her breath caught, and she shifted, trying to work out a strange kink in her back.  Too long kneeling next to Jaeri and the goat for sure.  Putting the discomfort out of her mind, she turned to Tobias in Ella’s arms and her voice softened.  “Tobias, what _were_ doing little love?”

 

He didn’t talk on his own, not to anyone save Martyn, but he might answer in some babble his brother could understand and relay to the rest of them.  Tobias gazed at her for a long moment, then smiled brightly.  “Baby!”

 

Aurelia stared at her son.  It was a word!  A real word that she could understand!  Oh Maker, Cullen was going to be cut that he missed this.  It wasn’t Mommy or Daddy, no, but it was _something_ , and she smiled. 

 

“Yes, baby goats, I know that’s very exciting, but—”

 

“No, Mommy.  _Baby_.”

 

Aurelia frowned, then she felt it again.  That discomfort.  A cramp.  The realization crept up on her, and she closed her eyes letting out a long, forlorn sigh.  How Tobais knew was a matter for another time; she had other priorities right now.  Dimly, she realized she was still holding herself upright courtesy of Samson’s arm.  Her hand clamped down, and he instinctively tried to pull away.

 

“You’re volunteered, Samson,” she muttered, and he weakly tried to escape again.  The attempt was in vain.  Raising her head, she barked her orders.  “Talen, get Cullen.  _Quickly_.  Ella, handle the children, if you would.  Goat… people.”  Her words trailed off as the pressure mounted in her belly.  Not pain, not exactly, not yet.  “Just… deal with the goat and get Handric out of here.”

 

Everyone moved at once in a flurry of activity, Talen disappearing as he stepped through the Fade, Handric escorted out of the pen, and Ella overseeing the wrangling of the most unruly inhabitants of the farm.  Beside her, Samson eyed her with bewildered terror but kept very still, as if by not moving he could somehow avoid his fate.  She almost felt bad for him.

 

Almost.

 

“And someone bloody well get the midwife!” she yelled.

 

Beside her, Samson whimpered.

 

* * *

 

“Just a bite to eat and then an hour or two of rest, Cullen, I promise,” Mia said, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.  Landon, Mia’s husband, caught Cullen’s eye and shook his head.  Cullen knew full well that there was no getting around Mia’s instance that he eat and rest before he returned home.

 

“Very well, I—”

 

The air beside him shimmered, and suddenly Talen appeared only to brace himself on his knees, breathing heavily.  Mia and Landon sprang back in shock, gasping. 

 

“Ser Cullen, ser,” Talen panted.  His face was covered with a sheen of sweat, and Cullen’s sleep-deprived mind belatedly realized that he must have Fade Stepped the full distance between here and the farm.  Another realization followed quickly on the heels of the first, and Cullen sucked in a hard breath.  Panic made his heart hammer in his chest

 

“Is it Aurelia?  The children?  Talen—”

 

“Having the baby.  Now, ser.  Lady Aurelia.”  Talen righted himself against the back of one of the chairs in the room, still trying to get his breath back.  Cullen, having been awake for over a day, having barely eaten, and feeling like the inside of his eyeballs were made of rough wool, merely let his face fall into his hands and allow himself a quiet, private groan of frustration.  Then he collected himself as best he could, and let his hands fall away from his face to see everyone watching him with concern.

 

“You going to be alright, Cullen?” Mia asked gently. 

 

“I need to go now, Mia,” he said.  His tone was strident, that _Commander_ tone as Aurelia called it.  It didn’t work on Mia, but it did let her know he wouldn’t be moved.  “Talen, stay here.  Recover your strength.”

 

“I’ll help you saddle that beast of yours,” Landon said quietly.  Cullen had not met the man until he and Aurelia had come to South Reach, but he liked his sister’s husband a good deal.  He’d helped the family after the Blight, when Cullen had been gone, and that spoke much for him since the man did little of that himself.  They were out the door in moments, but Talen’s voice drifted out over the morning.

 

“Hi, I’m Talen.  Don’t suppose I could trouble you for breakfast Lady Mia?”

 

* * *

 

“That’s, uh, good breathing, I guess,” Samson said nervously.  Aurelia continued to breathe through another contraction, her grip on Samson’s arm as strong as ever as he walked her along the upstairs hallway.  She needed to keep moving, because this baby couldn’t come yet.  Cullen wasn’t home, he wasn’t here, and she would not allow it.  Would not allow this child to come into the world without its father present. 

 

“You’re doing well, girl,” the midwife told her brightly.  She was a stocky thing, and the best midwife in South Reach.  Aurelia felt a slight pang for having deprived Rosie of competent hands, but she was hardly the only woman in the area who could help deliver babies.  “Now come on, back to the bed.  Need to examine you.”

 

“I should—” Samson spoke quickly, but Aurelia dragged him along with her.  He grumbled, “Don’t think you need me here, Trevelyan.”

 

“I need _someone_ ,” she bit out.  “And lucky you, you were closest.”

 

“Some fucking luck that is.” 

 

“There we are now,” the midwife said, apparently unconcerned that Aurelia and Samson weren’t sniping at each other.  Aurelia settled on the bed and let the midwife check her progress.  Samson studiously averted his gaze, staring out the window as if it held his salvation.  Then the midwife tutted.  “Oh, looks like we’re picking up a bit of speed.  I don’t suggest you get up again, dear.”

 

“What?  No, the baby can’t come yet!” Aurelia exclaimed.  She kicked her legs, warding off the midwife, and then tried to roll over so she could slide out of bed onto her feet.  Then Samson halted her progress, his hands on her shoulders, shoving her back.  Her lips drew back in a snarl, and a chill wind rushed through the bedroom.  “Don’t.  Test.  Me.”

 

“Think Rutherford would thank you—or me—if something happened cause you were too bull-headed to mind the midwife?” Samson growled, staring her down.  Cullen.  Right, yes, Cullen.  He’d want her to cautious, safe, to take care of their child because he wasn’t here.  Hating herself for how her lip quivered and tears prickled her eyes, Aurelia scooted back onto the bed fully. 

 

“Maker _take_ you for being right,” she accused, and then gasped as another cramp hit.  It was too early to push, she knew that, but her body was trying anyway.  Her hand convulsively closed on Samson’s, making him wince, but he didn’t try to escape again.

 

“Come on now, dear, let’s get you as comfortable as we can,” the midwife said, and Aurelia could only nod.  Nod and pray that her husband found his way home to her.

 

* * *

 

The wind whipped at Cullen’s face as he rode, and the thunder of Theodoric’s hooves rang in his ears.  But all he could think of, all he could see, was his wife, fighting with everything she was to bring another life into the world, and he _wasn’t there_.  Even with the twins he had been _there_. 

 

He had pushed the black charger into a gallop at the first, and his heart had raced as they practically flew back to the farm.  However, the initial jolt of excitement and fear began to peter away, and his head lolled forward, his lack of sleep catching up to him.  With a jerk, he wrenched himself back from the jaws of sleep, pulling on the reigns by accident and making Theodoric whicker in annoyance.

 

Shaking his head, Cullen squinted down the road, still little more than a dirt track, and he thought he might be close to the house.  Had he passed the spot where Sabine had been born?  Just there in that little valley to the right?  It was hard to tell, with the way the whole world seemed to be refusing to stay still.  The yellowing grass and dawn-stained sky blurred together, and Cullen’s head pitched forward again, and then the world went black.

 

* * *

 

Aurelia groaned, low and pained, her body curling forward as another cramp rocked her body. 

 

“Where’s Cullen?” she asked.  Had been asking that when the contractions started coming closer and closer together.  Her breathing was unsteady, and she clamped down on Samson’s hand even harder. 

 

“On his _way_ , Trevelyan,” Samson told her sharply.  “Rutherford’s a stubborn ass, and we both know that.”

 

“Don’t you talk about my husband that way, _Raleigh_ ,” she yelled.  The pain was getting worse, and everything was happening faster and faster.  Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest.  He had to come back.  He _had_ to.

 

* * *

 

Everything hurt, and it felt like something was tugging at his hair.

 

Cullen opened his eyes, and promptly wished he hadn’t.  With a pained exhalation, he sat up, Theodoric backing away.  The horse had been lipping at him, trying to wake him up.  Blearily, he blinked up at the sky, and thought that unless he’d been out for a whole day, he hadn’t lost that much time.  His shoulder was on _fire_.  It was an old training injury, and it was once again out of place. 

 

He should take the time to pop it back in before getting back on the horse, but there was no time.  Instead, he gripped the saddle horn in his right hand and braced his left in the stirrup, hauling himself back into the saddle with only a low grunt of pain.  He felt lightheaded after that exertion, and he wiped his brow, his fingers coming away damp. 

 

Blood.  It must only be a small cut, or he hoped so.  Again, no time to investigate or fix the problem, he kicked Theodoric into motion.  Though at a less breakneck pace than before.

 

His wife and children needed him _alive_.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t, I won’t!” Aurelia screamed, even as she pushed.  She couldn’t help it.  It was what her body wanted to do, and she couldn’t fight it anymore.  Tears ran down her face, and she wanted to lash out at the world.  She hadn’t been able to hold on just a little bit longer, to give Cullen just a little bit more time.  More time, that’s all he needed.  He was on his way.  He was.

 

“Not up to you, girl,” the midwife told her kindly, too kindly.  Aurelia braced her back against the headboard of her bed, the bed she shared with her husband, and continued to push.  Holding Samson’s hand in a death grip, tried to focus on his breathing.  A steady in and out, but it wasn’t right.  It was all wrong, and she wanted to elbow him in the gut. 

 

“Agh, you’re breathing wrong!” she yelled at him.

 

“What the _fuck_ does that mean?”

 

“Don’t swear around my baby!”

 

“You have!” he retorted, and she snarled.  She wanted to get him away from her, but damnit, she needed _someone_.

 

“What in the Maker’s name is going on?!” 

 

Cullen!  That was Cullen’s voice, and Aurelia looked up to see him standing in the doorway to their bedroom.  Blood ran freely from a cut on his forehead, his shoulder was held at an awkward angle, but _there_.  Here, home.

 

“Cullen!” she exclaimed, shoving Samson away from her and reaching for her husband with her hand.

 

“Aurelia.”  Cullen spoke her name as if it was a prayer, and he edged around the room to be by her side.  Samson had already backed away from her, but he frowned as he tracked Cullen’s movements and how he gingerly held his shoulder.

 

“Hold still,” Samson ordered.

 

“Don’t touch m—” was all Cullen had time to say before Samson firmly took hold of his arm, braced against Cullen’s back and with a loud and sickening _pop_ , moved the shoulder back into place.  Cullen screamed in agony, and Aurelia echoed him as another contraction hit.  Then Samson nudged Cullen toward her, and he sank onto the bed beside her, her devoted husband, her quiet Commander, her dear knight, her love.  He held her hand between his own, wincing only little as he did so.

 

“You’re here, you’re here,” she said between panting breaths.  She couldn’t stop crying heavy, relieved tears, and she wanted to know why he was bleeding, why he had been hurt, but she couldn’t ask the questions.  Instead, all she could do was lean into his strength and push as he braced her with his good arm.

 

“Nothing could keep me away,” he promised, tears in his own eyes.

 

“I can see why you wanted him here!” the midwife cackled, a saucy light in her eyes.  A light that Aurelia did not appreciate at the moment.   Aurelia screamed, another push, and another, and yelled at her, “Hands off!  He’s mine!”

 

“Yes, all yours, now breathe, Aurelia,” Cullen told her soothingly, and she focused on his voice, on him.  Screwing her eyes up tight, she breathed out and then she pushed, one final push, and then her body felt empty.  Not a moment later, the baby wailed, and Aurelia gasped, collapsing into Cullen’s arms.  Or his good arm.  What a pair they made right now.

 

Cullen pressed a kiss to Aurelia’s temple and hummed softly.  His fingers stroked her hair back, and he had seen enough by now that she did not ask him to leave as the afterbirth was dealt with.  Samson, however, had beat a hasty retreat, though Aurelia’s focus had shifted entirely to the bundle the midwife was currently swaddling.

 

“And here we go, a beautiful baby girl,” the midwife told them, and Aurelia held her youngest child to her chest and wept with relief to have her family all together again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Cullen whispered.  “To you both, for almost missing this.”

 

“Not,” Aurelia said, hiccupping between her words.  “Not your fault.  Had to.  Know that.”

 

“Though, I do have to ask.  Why was _Samson_ in here with you?”

 

“Ah, about that,” Aurelia said, and then told Cullen the whole mad series of events, starting with a pregnant goat and Tobias finally speaking, to the point where he had walked in, battered but just in time. 

 

They spoke softly for a moment, both of them tended to and patched up as much as possible, and then Cullen left to gather up a few necessary people.  He returned not a minute later, Sabine racing ahead of her father, her golden curls flying behind her, and Martyn and Tobias holding onto his hands.  Behind them trailed Samson, his usual surly expression on his face.  Sabine jumped on the bed, earning her a gentle admonishment from Cullen, and for once she appeared chastised for her battering-ram behavior.  Cullen hoisted the boys up on the bed as well, and their children crowded around to peer at their newest sibling.

 

“She’s _small_ ,” Sabine pronounced.

 

“Wrinkly red,” Martyn added, not wanting to be left behind by Sabine’s instant disapproval.  Tobais, however, snuggled up close to Aurelia and patted the swaddling blanket very gently.  In his still unfamiliar voice, he said, “ _Sister_.”

 

With that pronouncement of deep importance, Sabine and Martyn followed suit, gently touching their baby sister, all faults apparently forgotten.

 

“Yes, you all have a baby sister,” Aurelia cooed at them, and they beamed at her.  All her little loves with her, and her heart felt fit to burst.    

 

“Don’t think you want me to join in the family cuddle,” Samson remarked dryly, and a brief chuckle escaped Cullen. 

 

“I don’t think any of us want that,” Cullen said.  He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, but then placed a friendly hand on Samson’s shoulder.  “But you were here for this family.  And we’re grateful.  Thought you should know her name at the same time as family.”  Samson narrowed his eyes at Cullen, bracing for some kind of trick or attack, but he stayed put.

 

“Little loves, Samson, we’d like you to meet Eleanor.”  Aurelia’s voice was soft and gentle, though she knew she was preening proudly.  She couldn’t help it, for the beautiful family she and Cullen had made together.  The children piped up with a heart-stoppingly endearing, “Hello Ella-ma-ner.”

 

Cullen sank on the bed next to her again, tracing the line of the baby’s cheek, and Aurelia thought this little one might finally get Cullen’s eyes.  Those beautiful amber eyes that were like the reflected light of a fire.  Samson edged closer and peered down skeptically at the small face, and he puffed out a breath as if he’d been hit in the gut.

 

“Hey there, little Rutherford.  You’re not too bad, but do me a favor.  Tell your folks to stop having babies.  I don’t know if South Reach would survive it.”  At Samsons’ sarcastic assessment, Aurelia sat up with fiery indignation, but then she caught Cullen’s thoughtful expression out the corner of her eye.

 

“He’s not wrong, love,” Cullen told her.  Aurelia sighed.  He _wasn’t_.  Considering all their mad, sideways luck around her labors, the next one would probably start a war.

 

“Well, four is a good number anyway,” Aurelia said with great aplomb.  Then she turned to her children and asked, “What do you think?  Do you like being four?”

 

“Yeah!  I’m still the boss!” Sabine enthused, puffing out her little chest.

 

“Nuh-uh, me!” Martyn argued.

 

“Mommy’s boss,” Tobias told his siblings pointedly.  Cullen affected being wounded and picked up Tobias, snuggling their son close.

 

“What?  Not me?  I’m not the boss?” Cullen asked, a teasing note in his voice.  Aurelia smiled to see a man who had at first been stiff and formal, reserved to the point where she had been unable to tell if he cared for her or not, drop all pretenses around his children.  Tobias, however, merely shook his head.

 

“No.  Mommy is boss,” Tobias insisted.  Samson howled with laughter, collapsing into a chair with his hand held over his eyes.

 

“Your own son no less!” Samson crowed.  Cullen’s mouth hung open in shock, and he turned to Aurelia for reassurance.  All she had to offer him, unfortunately, was barely suppressed laughter.  Her shoulders shook with the effort to contain it, but the longer he stared at her, as his incredulity grew, it became harder to contain.  Finally, the dam broke, and she laughed. 

 

Her daughter in her arms, her young children close, and her husband at her side, she laughed.  A mage of the Ostwick Circle, a rebel, a soldier, Herald and Inquisitor, all these things she had been, but in these past years she had acquired a title that was shared by many, though was no less precious for it.  _Mother_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Hope you enjoyed the silly and the chaos. Thanks to everyone who read, left kudos, and commented! <3


	5. In Which It is Bedtime, and The End

“… and with that, I believe it is time for bed,” Cullen announced.  He placed a strip of cloth in the book to mark their place, and closed the book with a soft thunk.  It was one of Varric’s new series of adventure tales for children, featuring a very young Marian Hawke.  And, like every night, the children roused just enough to make bed time interesting.

“One more chapter, Daddy,  _please_ ,” Sabine wheedled, blue eyes large in her small face.  Only six years of age, and already trying to get her way on everything

“Yeah, please, Daddy, one more,” Martyn and Tobias said together, picking up their older sister’s tone and trying to overwhelm their father with childish begging from all sides.  That roused little Eleanor enough from her drowsy place on Cullen’s chest.  Her small hands grabbed at the book peremptorily, and in her still babyish voice she said, “Dada, more book.”

Cullen glanced at Aurelia then, as if to say  _they are certainly your children._   She rolled her eyes, but did not care to argue the point, silently or otherwise.  Instead, she gently tapped the boys on their shoulders.

“What did your father say?” she asked them, not sparing Sabine either.  She caught the eye of her eldest child and raised her brow meaningfully, and Sabine had the awareness enough to look abashed at her attempt to foment revolution.

“Time for bed,” they chorused, and Aurelia nodded, shooing the boys off the couch.  She stood and followed them, not for the first time wishing she could hold each of the twins by their hands as they walked along.  They seemed to find no fault in it, however, for they had never known her any other way.  Together they formed a chain, Tobias holding her right hand, and Martyn holding his brother’s.  Sabine walked ahead by herself, and Cullen stood, cradling Eleanor to him, her chubby legs dangling as she hovered between waking and sleep.

Then it was the standard chaos of getting the children into bed: Aurelia wrangling them into their nightshirts, Cullen helping the girls braid up their hair, and then getting them actually into bed. Sabine was ready for bed first, and she made straight for the box of stuffed toys.  How they had so many Aurelia would never know.  She and Cullen both privately agreed they multiplied while no one was looking.  Then Aurelia was distracted by Eleanor’s soft whimper, and she knelt by the bed.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Aurelia asked, and the little three-year-old fussed and pouted, her small hands grabbing at the air.

“Wan’ stuffie.  Nug,” she said, grumpy and demanding as only a tired child could be.  Aurelia let Eleanor grab one of her fingers, and softly spoke.

“What do we say?” she asked gently.  Eleanor huffed and wiggled, but eventually said, “ _please_ , Momma.”  With a quick kiss to her forehead, Aurelia stood and joined her other daughter at the box of stuffed toys. Toys that were now strewn everywhere in Sabine’s quest to find the  _right_  toy.  Aurelia knelt and eyed the toys meaningfully.

“I know, Momma, I’ll put them back, but I got out the nug, too."  Her eldest offered up the winged nug that Krem had sewn when Aurelia had been pregnant with Sabine. The nug that had been placed in her crib. As the eldest, however, Sabine had decided she needed to trade up as the nug was for babies only.

“Thank you, Sabine, now put the rest away and take Lady Firetail to bed, please,” Aurelia said, nodding at the stuffed dragon the girl held to her chest.  She nodded, a touch sullen, but doing as she was told, and Aurelia kissed her on the top of the head, which mollification her somewhat.  Then she stood and flew the nug into Eleanor’s arms, where it was then hugged to the small body with all the might the girl could muster.

“Love nug,” Eleanor said sleepily, nuzzling the soft toy and sliding down under her blankets.

“And the lion will eat you up!” Cullen said, walking the stuffed lion toy up Martyn’s bed and pretending that it was biting at the boy’s neck.  Martyn squealed in laughter, and grabbed the toy from his father.

“Da! The lion  _protects_  me,” he corrected.

“Ah, of course, how silly of me,” Cullen demurred, and then turned to Tobias.  He was the quieter of the twins, of all their children. Cullen played about with the stuffed Mabari Tobias currently favored, making it act as though it were sniffing about for a place to sleep and snuggled it against their son’s side. “I think he found a good spot, what about you?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Tobias agreed, his eyes fluttering closed.  Sabine now finished putting the last of the toys away jumped onto her bed.

“Sabine,” Cullen warned, and the girl sighed.

“No jumping, sorry Daddy,” she said, and settled under the covers, pulling them up to her chin.  Aurelia gazed at them all, all her babies in their beds, safe and warm and loved.  So very, very loved.  It would not be long before Sabine left the nursery for a room of her own, then the boys, then little Eleanor.  But for now, for now they were all in one place, one soft room, sacrosanct from the world outside.  Then Tobias stirred.

“Momma, can you sing? Please?” he asked.  Then Martyn piped up, “Daddy, too.”  Aurelia smiled, sinking to sit on Tobias’s bed, smoothing his fine, blonde hair back from his face.  She looked up at her husband, and he nodded.

“Of course, little love,” she said, giving her son a quick kiss on his forehead. And then she sang, “[ _The moon’s on its way to its nightly shift. The frogs fill the creek below. The tall grass waves a farewell to the day._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ivwrWgHvpY)”

“ _The wind moans sweet and low,_ ” Cullen sang, his voice a low counterpoint to her own. “ _The heron tucks his head in his wing. The fish in the lake float along._ ”  As he sang, Aurelia gave their children a final kiss goodnight, and tired eyes drifted shut. They continued to sing, trading lines between them until their children’s breathing slowed as sleep claimed them. Then together, they sang the final lines of the lullaby, “ _And we come and go, away but never gone._ ”

And for a moment, the world was hush and still, a dream in and of itself.


End file.
